


Coming to Terms

by kazarina



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Laurent is a computer whiz, M/M, Office, PTSD, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, The regent being evil, Workplace, canon-typical warnings apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazarina/pseuds/kazarina
Summary: Damen and Laurent meet when Laurent is newly hired at a start-up company. They start off on the wrong foot, when Damen accidentally spills coffee over Laurent's things. Meanwhile, Laurent is busy making his own moves against his uncle and coping with a new job.Set amid a backdrop of the Regent’s scheming, Damen and Laurent navigate their way around each other while helping a humble start-up dream of more.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 177
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a long fic. 
> 
> Update 2020-06-12: I have the ending planned out, and I promise I will finish it.

The first time Damen heard about the new starter, he paid it no more attention than one of the gazillion things that passed through his hands. The work was ramping up, and their team could barely keep up with it anymore. If the new guy wasn’t going to be much help, he wouldn’t last long anyway. It wouldn't be the first time they had let go of someone that wasn't a good fit anyway, as it was the way for small companies unable to bear the cost of an employee that did not fit. 

The second time Damen heard about the new starter was when Vannes announced that their team’s collective attractiveness was finally going up a notch all thanks to her new hire. Damen paid that no heed either. He had nothing against Vannes, in fact she had a certain air about her that made everyone pay attention and it was not just because of the streak of bright green amongst her curled jet black hair. As much as he liked Vannes however, she was prone to exaggeration and she especially liked making dramatic statements like this, so Damen was quick to toss that out of his mind. 

When the same news reached his ears a third time, it came from a source that nagged at him for a good ten minutes, that he only half paid attention to, and that he would really rather not listen to. Nik, from Sales, who had known Damen for a long time, way before they both came to work in this company, had called Damen that morning with a list of warnings as long as his arm. “Just try not to be an idiot,” he finished, after reminding him of all the ways he had acted as one (Damen heartily disagreed), and Damen had rolled his eyes at him, as much as you can over the phone anyway, and scoffed.

For all the good of getting the news beforehand, no amount of preparation could have helped. It turned out that Nik was more right than Damen could have thought, or rather Nik knew him way better than Damen gave him credit for. 

He – Laurent – was exactly the kind of gorgeous that Damen was attracted to, even his name sounded beautiful and sophisticated. With blond silky hair slightly past his ears, blue eyes framed in black-rimmed glasses, and a standard corporate attire of shirt (dark blue) and pants (well-fitted), he looked somewhere in between a tech nerd and suave business manager. In a larger company – this one was a struggling start up – he would have women, and men, swooning over him. It was very likely that he already had a girlfriend and anyway, what were the chances of him being gay? Damen quickly pushed away those thoughts, feeling especially guilty of thinking them at his workplace. 

He proceeded to shake hands quite over-enthusiastically as he introduced himself (“I’m Damianos Akeilos, but I go by Damen.”), which wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t spend some time before that staring in a most stupefied fashion. If Nik had seen the whole exchange, he would be giving him one of those _I told you so_ looks that Damen often got from him. Just as well that Nik wasn’t around, as Damen was plenty mortified by his out of character awkwardness.

“Laurent,” came the curt reply, and the hand had pulled away as quick as was socially acceptable. Before Damen could fluster through any pleasantries, Laurent turned away and was once more buried in his laptop, long agile fingers flying over the keyboard. The continuous tap-tap-tap sound was a new sound in the little office, and added to the cacophony of voices constantly in discussion. 

The first day on the job passed in a whirl for Laurent, with a mix of nervousness and excitement that he hid within himself. His direct manager was Vannes, a woman of shrewd eyes and a loud laugh, though in such a small company, the corporate hierarchy was nearly invisible. That was evident, in the way Vannes and Makedon traded their not so subtle back-and-forth insults. They had clearly worked together for a long time, and Laurent was fairly sure they were good friends outside of work as well. Makedon was the army general of them all. Each time he barked his orders (that is, questions), the others scrambled to find an answer for him. The others being Damen the junior trader, Pallas who worked over sales and pricing, and Jord, the investment analyst. The energy portfolios team was a small team of 6, including Laurent, in a small company that would probably not have any more than 30 employees. They were responsible for developing the business strategy, both in asset investments and in the day-to-day retail hedging. The team seemed friendly enough and informal with each other, and Laurent knew he stood out in his closed-off manner. That was just as well, as Laurent didn’t want to have to speak to anyone more than he needed to. 

Laurent had been hired to set up the systems, build a database and perform market analysis. There was just a minor inconvenience that he may have lied about some of his experience, but he would deal with that later. There are, after all, plenty of hours in a day to learn what he needed. And on this day, Laurent was pleased, very pleased in fact. It had nothing to do with his first day at his new job, and everything to do with it. It was the first job outside of his uncle’s company – what should have been his company – and it was the first solid step he had managed to take to move away from his uncle. It was also the first play he had won, in a very, very long while. The surprise on his uncle’s face, when Laurent had handed in his resignation, had been well worth it. The second and more pleasurable surprise, which Laurent unfortunately would not be able to witness, would come when his uncle finally worked out that Laurent had also left the mansion they lived together in, for good. It was a pity he could not see his uncle’s face for that.

Most of the day was spent installing software he needed on his new laptop, attaining all the required accesses to various systems, and investigating what systems had been set up. The latter yielded only a miserable array of what Laurent would prefer to class as fuck-ups, not set-ups. To add to that annoyance, Damen, who sat one seat adjacent to him, kept trying to engage him in conversation, which Laurent did his best to fend off. This would include conversations like “What did you study at university?”, to which Laurent replied, “A number of different topics.”, hoping that it would signal the end of the conversation. But then Damen would somehow keep going, “Oh what sort?”, he had asked. And this time Laurent, tight-lipped, had forced a smile and said, “The interesting sort.” 

After a while, having progressed no further than before, even Damen, social butterfly and excellent conversationalist, had to give up pestering his coworker who seemed to prefer isolation. It was also always busy at work. They were a start-up just struggling to break through that barrier, to actually become _not-a-start-up_. And it meant every person was doing multiple jobs, and if there was a specific business objective, then everyone stayed late and did their best to complete it. Damen had worked in larger organisations before. The bureaucracy was a hindrance, and the politics were always over-complicated. Their company, and Damen thought of it as his with pride already despite only having joined just 6 months ago, was one of the few places where he genuinely liked his team. It ranked as one of the best workplaces in his 6 years of working life, surrounded by leaders who were smart and decisive, and coworkers that were as dedicated as they were capable.

***

The next day was one of the nicer days in winter, where the morning’s chill was crisp and offset by a bit of sun for once. Damen had always had a habit of getting some form of exercise in the morning, and today he decided, owing to the nice weather, that it was going to be a jog. Damen rented an apartment close enough to the city centre, that he could wake up at a reasonable hour, and still have plenty of time to himself. Technically he was partially renting, but really, the minimal rent simply went over to his parents, who co-owned the apartment with him, and so for all intents and purposes, it was his apartment. Certainly, he was bereft of the nuisance of having real estate agents pester him with house inspections and other such nonsense.

He showered, dressed and then boarded his usual bus, alongside the morning crowd pouring into the city centre for exactly the same purpose as himself, all the while scrolling through his phone reading market news, both public and specific to the company. When he had next looked up, he caught sight of familiar blond hair falling around dark blue shoulder tops. It was impossible not to notice. Damen wanted to push his way over, having already forgotten, or forgiven, how hard it had been to converse yesterday, but the inhabitants of the bus were pouring out at the last stop at a crowded interchange, and it was impossible to move. 

That was the beginning of his mistake. 

As Damen stood in yet another predictable crowd, to buy his morning coffee, he sent a text message to the team’s whatsapp chat group. “Coffee anyone?” to which came several replies: “I want!”, “I NEED one.”, “Not for me, I’m off site today”, “I’m DYING for one!”, and “Won’t be in soon.”. Damen took the liberty of buying coffee for Laurent, since he wasn’t yet on the chat group, and also since he had seen him exit the station from afar. He knew the coffee preferences of everyone in the team, all except Laurent, but shrugged and chose a latte. Can’t go wrong. 

The offices of Lionsheart Energy, was not like The Office, and definitely not like Silicon Valley, despite the latter sharing the same class of companies. It consisted of three separate rooms, out of several small rooms arranged circularly on the one floor. The floor’s middle was reception and kitchen. Two of the rooms rented by Lionsheart Energy were next to each other. The CEO, Finance, Operations, and Sales teams were squeezed into one room. Next to that, was a small meeting room. The third you had to walk round the corridor to get to. Damen never worked out whether it was shorter to walk clockwise or anticlockwise to the other side. This room housed the energy portfolios team, six desks in two rows facing each other and two more at each end, and got quite cramped if there were visitors. All in all, their office was the opposite of glamorous, unless you counted that the far end of the room had full-length glass windows which would have displayed a sumptuous city view if not for the building opposite the street. 

When Damen entered, he noticed immediately the visitor laptops on the desks, which meant either someone from interstate was visiting or it was one of their vendor business partners, but unfortunately, his feet did not notice the cable that linked one of the laptops to the power outlet. And so it was, that the coffees he held on a cardboard tray fell to the floor as he put out his hands to grab at anything to stop the fall. The coffee that he had been holding out to offer to Laurent flew out of his grip, despite Damen making a grab for it. It all happened about as elegantly as one of those youtube dogs trying and failing to catch a ball. By the time Damen righted himself, Laurent, currently the only one present in the room, had snatched up his keyboard – some sort of personal fancy techy one – closest to the disaster on the desk and was eying him with a sour expression. 

“I suppose it was too much to ask for a little dexterity from a lumbering hulk like you.” The toneless voice didn’t measure up to the downright hostile words. Damen would have been incredulous if he wasn’t so mortified. He repeatedly apologised before dashing off to fetch paper towels. At first it didn’t look too bad. The tray of coffees had miraculously survived the drop with only minor wastage – thank god, un-caffeinated Makedon was a nightmare – and none of the electronics were ruined. It seemed that he had lost one coffee, and only some paper scraps and a wallet had gotten the worst of it. 

When he had returned, Laurent had put down his keyboard somewhere safe, and was shaking out the coffee droplets off the wallet, which Damen belatedly realised belonged to him. That was probably why he was not at all impressed. Laurent pushed past him without a word. 

“I am SO sorry!” Damen apologised again, and watched as Laurent whirled around startlingly sudden and retorted calmly, “Yes, do keep repeating yourself. A lot of good that does.” 

Damen’s jaw dropped a little, finding himself blinking in shock, the unkindness completely taking him unawares. It was an honest mistake. It wasn’t even his fault, more like a workplace health and safety issue even. 

“Woah, you don’t have to be mean about it.” Damen frowned, “I said I’m sorry. Let me buy you another coffee, to make it up.”

“Why,” Laurent said, “would I need that?” Dispassionate blue eyes stared at him for a moment, leaving Damen gaping, and then Laurent left the room.

Although initially contrite, Damen was starting to be annoyed. He didn’t mean to spill coffee everywhere, and he had done a nice thing by buying Laurent coffee. The thing was, if the situation had been reversed, it wouldn’t have been Damen’s reaction at all, far from it. Damen was generous and forgiving, and he couldn’t think of a situation where he would treat anyone horribly like that. He decided he didn’t like the new guy at all. Good looks be damned.

Having spent the rest of the morning avoiding any further mishaps with Laurent, Damen was relieved when Nik called him up for lunch. It was starting to get a bit tense with Laurent. Damen didn’t often see Nik in the office, so on the rare occasion that he was in and free, he would check in on Damen. They still saw each other fairly frequently, catching up over after-work drinks instead. 

“So the new guy huh?” Nik said, before biting a large mouthful into his burger. 

“What?” Damen said, in between mouthfuls himself.

“You know what I mean. It's so your type. Like spot-on.” Nik said. 

“God no, he’s awful.”

“Why?” Nik’s eyes widened and became focused in anticipation of gossip. 

“He’s stuck-up and arrogant. Definitely private school, probably grown up with rich parents and never had to work hard for anything. Did you see his watch?” 

Nik raised an eyebrow, “You have an expensive watch too.” He said with a laugh, and then waited for Damen to carry on, and anyway, Damen needed no prompt. He had wanted to vent for most of the morning.

“That’s different! I accidentally spilled coffee over his fancy wallet and he snapped so hard at me. You would have thought someone died!”

Nik laughed, “Really? Hmm, blond hair and blue eyes, clever techy. Bitchy by the sounds of it. Reminds me of someone.” But on seeing Damen’s face, he winced and said, “Is it too soon to talk about Jokaste?”

“Yes” Damen replied too quickly, gulping his drink, then sighed, his expression turning downcast. “I don’t know why she left me. I don’t know why at all.”

“Grow up Damen, you leave them all the time, high time you got to experience someone leaving you.” 

There was an outraged annoyed expression from Damen that said Nik sometimes got a bit too close to the truth. “It’s different, she’s different. I thought we were good. Like really good.” Damen insisted.

“Well mate, I know you and I’m sure there will be someone else. Go hit up a few bars and you’ll be fine. So, what’s the latest gos back there?”

“What? Oh well. The board is being indecisive as per usual, Mak’s explained our strategy a million times and everyone’s just worried about high prices. We won’t make any money if we don’t take risks. But good news, we’ve signed the contract for Galingher and that is a good price. We just need about a hundred more gigawatts of retail. How are you going on that by the way?” 

“Fuck I was in a 10 hour negotiation on Friday. What kind of prude organises that on a Friday anyway? Everyone was annoying everyone by that time. So I don’t know, we will win the tender or we will not. I think I slept about 20 hours after that.” Nik said.

"Shit I hope we win it for your sake."

"That would be half my sales target for the year! We are going to celebrate so hard if I take this baby home. From what I hear your team's been full on too. I suppose it's good to have another person to help."

"Who knows if he will be any help?" Damen said dismissively.

“What is he working on?” Nik asked. 

“Don’t know don’t care. Something IT.” Damen said. Wolfing down the rest of his burger, he quickly slapped down a twenty dollar bill. “Got to go. Another meeting, with potential investors! If all goes well, we could get listed! Or better, bought over!”

“Good luck,” Nik said towards Damen’s retreating back.

*** 

Laurent and Jord were the only ones in the office just after lunch, which resulted in a respite quietness that would no doubt not last. His second day passed as slowly as if all the seconds in the hours had ganged up against him and dragged themselves as far apart as possible. It had slipped out under his feet when Damen, one of the loud, always-talking traders spilled his coffee all over Laurent’s wallet – Auguste’s wallet – and then the day spiraled from bad to worse. The room had been chattering away, constant debates raging, and Laurent felt as though he was falling through an endless bottomless hole. Like Alice, except it wasn’t an adventure, and there was only dread waiting at the bottom. When would the fall end, and the nightmare begin? 

Laurent talked as little as he could, and let his fingers fall into the rhythm of programming. He stuck to the tasks that were easy and had to be done, and put off the heavy thinking, which he couldn’t manage at the moment. The already too-small room was suddenly claustrophobic, the people too closely pressed in, unwelcome and intruding. He carefully kept all expression off his face. Laurent worked through lunch, and then left at 4pm. It was as much the end of his tolerance, as it was an acceptable time to leave. 

Auguste had been twenty, as Laurent was now. Auguste was his brother. Auguste loved him. Auguste was gone. And perhaps if Laurent was stronger, he wouldn’t be so fucking upset by a stained wallet, already on its last legs from age. But somehow, it felt as fresh as the first time again. It suddenly occurred to him that one day, all of these things that reminded him of Auguste would go too. Perhaps even, one day, he would simply disappear from Laurent’s memory without him even knowing it. The thought despaired him. 

Laurent sank down gracelessly when he managed to take himself home, open the front door and close it behind him. It was gloomy now, as per usual in winter, thick clouds keeping the sun back, maybe even preparing to tip out a drizzle. The next time Laurent looked up, it was dark, which was also when he realised he must have sat in the same position for a few hours. That, and because his knees were painfully stiff. Laurent was beginning to come back to himself, or at least he was determined to. He still had several textbooks to study. He still had to think, to guess, what his uncle might throw at him next. And he had to buy a new wallet, and let this one go. The picture that was in it, of the two of them, two young boyish happy faces, would be ruined too. _I’m sorry_ , he thought aimlessly, and at no one in particular. The high of the previous day, and excitement of moving out, had died away, leaving only the daunting future ahead. His uncle had lost face when his own nephew quit without so much as a goodbye, and there would be payback. Laurent had to be ready, to be alert, and he had to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback and comments much appreciated. I've written up to 3 chapters, and it will probably not go beyond 10.


	2. Chapter 2

Of all his coworkers, Laurent was the one that settled into the office each day with the least fuss, greeting the room only a concise good morning, and declining to participate in the coffees that the rest of the team took turns buying for each other. Laurent didn’t drink coffee, didn’t want to rely on a stimulant to stay awake, or to concentrate, and most definitely didn’t want to waste money on that. It did make him look rather anti-social, but when asked once, he proclaimed that coffee was for wusses, which earned him a loud guffaw from Makedon. He had learned by then that insults were quite appreciated at this workplace. 

Things were going well for Laurent, at least for the first two weeks, except possibly in one aspect. He had made Damen displeased with him, which he didn’t care too much about anyway, and even now was still undecided if he should not have lashed out. Still, it did occur to him that it wasn’t nice of him, wasn’t what fell within acceptable society expectations. Luckily there were no further repercussions on that; Damen and the rest of the team had continued to treat him politely. When Laurent pondered on this, he grudgingly accepted that Damen could have used the incident to turn the rest of the team against him, and it did say something that he did not. What remained was the unfortunate fact that he still didn't _get along_ with his colleague who sat beside him every day. Add to that the fact that Damen took the same bus to work as him every day, and it was downright annoying that they caught sight of each other every so often. Damen steered clear of Laurent probably as much as Laurent steered clear of him, though for Laurent it was more to avoid being in a situation where he lashed out again at Damen. 

Perhaps things may not go to plan today, but one thing he could count on was that he was definitely not going to run into Damen this morning. 

*** 

That morning in the office passed in a whirl. An urgent matter came up, got handled by one of them expertly before yet another thing came up. Makedon received a phone call early and left in a hurry. Visitors came and left, all in the space of a morning.

Just after midday, Makedon returned in a bundle of energy and barely contained excitement – which usually meant a deal had gone well. He also commented on the absence of Laurent, rubbing his hands gleefully, saying, “We can gossip about him then!” 

He sat a tray of coffees down on an empty space of the desks, whereupon several appreciative hands reached out all at once to stake a claim. Pallas snatched his up, muttering quick thanks, and was out of the office in a flash, apparently risking being late for a meeting just so that he could wait for his coffee.

“You mean like how much of a godsend Laurent’s been?” said Jord, not even looking up from his computer screen. It was a habit he shared with Laurent.

Vannes grinned, taking this as a compliment to herself seeing as she was the one who hired Laurent. “I only have good things to say. He’s a genius! He can do anything! It’s only been two weeks and he’s got us all this data that used to take a ridiculous amount of copy and paste. Also he’s offered to do the optimization analysis which would be very useful. It’s my best hire yet!” 

Damen frowned as he remembered the last time he interacted with Laurent. He had been struggling to unlock the only locked cabinet in their office, where all their confidential information were housed. Damen used it only rarely, preferring to keep his things on his person, while Laurent deeply favoured the cabinet, keeping almost everything of his under lock and key, including several hard drives worth of backup. He was nothing if not careful, possibly a tad paranoid, Damen had thought. He stood watching over Damen’s shoulder, as he twisted the key one way and another, without offering to help, and then quipped coolly, “Try not to break the lock, if you can manage it.”

Not many things irritated Damen, but of the infrequent number of times Laurent spoke aloud, most of what came out were needling remarks that landed on him more so than anyone else in the team. In that moment, he shot back, “You do it then.”

And Laurent had met his eyes with unflinching blue ones, whipped the key off Damen’s fingers in one smooth movement, and unlocked the cabinet at his first attempt. He raised an eyebrow as he held the key back at Damen, even as Damen flushed and snatched it out of his hands. Damen wished heartily that there was something he could do to wipe that superior half smile off Laurent’s face.

Listening to the others speak of Laurent warmly, Damen interjected, “He barely speaks!” 

Makedon beamed, “Oh but when he does, he’s hilarious.” He slapped the table in a loud _thwack_ for emphasis.

“It’s just you, man.” Jord aimed the vibe at Damen, who was fairly sure he was right.

Perhaps also he had missed something in the office, as he had been having more than the usual out of office meetings over the last several weeks. Even then, he couldn’t quite reconcile the man who snapped so coldly at him over nothing. Vannes, perhaps, wasn’t so much to be trusted, but Jord definitely wasn’t one for exaggeration. Damen shot Jord a mock glare, and a threat: “No more coffees for you.” He didn’t say anything about that incident with Laurent. He didn’t feel right, talking behind someone like that.

Still, he was surprised. Laurent, quiet and spiteful, was somehow very much well-liked by everyone else. It was inconceivable how that came to be, except that it was the second time something had happened that forced Damen to reconsider. A few days ago, he had seen Laurent on the bus, pushing his way up the front to the driver and speaking to him. The bus wasn’t moving and there weren’t any passengers at either doors. Like the next curious passenger, he looked out the windows – Damen had an advantage in this due to his height – and watched as an elderly lady ambled across the road on her walking stick, passed the front of the bus and then got on board. It was only several bus rides later that Damen realised this elderly lady boarded the same bus every day and Laurent knowing this, had asked the driver to wait that day. That knowledge shifted something in him. Whatever else Laurent’s reputation of eccentric genius may be, at least the eccentric part is accurate.

Office chatter was swiftly becoming work-related, so Damen had to give up pondering the mystery that was Laurent. The topic was a usual one, and in fact, just variations of the same conversation over and over. Actually it was more a rant than a conversation by now, and it was about the ever-present threat of funding. The investors had to be meticulously convinced that the company wasn’t wasting their money and were taking risks with sufficient consideration. Even the CEO, who was a damn savvy negotiator was starting to tire, after explaining the same concepts over and over. The truth was that the electricity market was a dangerous game to play for start-ups, and it was always going to be a long-term game to win at it. 

Later on when Damen asked where Laurent was, Vannes shrugged and said he had taken the day off to visit his parents.

*** 

It was not a lie, not really. 

Laurent did visit his parent’s graves that morning, and only because Auguste was there, but that was not the main reason for taking the day off. No, Laurent was going to the university today. He had planned and prepared, and with some luck he would achieve several objectives.

The first time Laurent had seen Professor Herode was years ago and only in passing. He was enrolled in the university then, roaming the corridors of the Mathematics department like any other student where he was bound to walk past one Professor or another. He hadn't actually attended any of Professor Herode’s classes then. 

Some months ago, Laurent attended one of the Professor’s classes for the first time. It was the start of the semester, and Laurent picked up a copy of the notes that were handed out. No one took attendance at lectures, and so no one noticed that Laurent wasn’t a student. Laurent sat right up the back then, but today called for a different strategy. 

“We will begin now,” Herode’s elderly voice was steady and relaxed, courtesy of lecturing over decades. “We’re up to page 210 in your lecture notes. We’ll make a start on mixed models today, and then see where we get up to. Mixed models are really an extension of general linear models that we talked about previously…” 

Most Mathematics professors had voices that droned on and on, and could probably put an elephant to sleep, but this was the advanced third year maths class. The smart, enthusiastic, and supremely interested audience would more than make up for a monotonous lecture, willing to soak up knowledge in any form delivered. This particular class would have been full of Maths majors and perhaps some stray masters students. It would have been the sort of class Laurent would have taken if he completed his Computer Science and Mathematics degree, and subsequent masters, if, he didn’t have that disastrous breakdown. It was an odd feeling to sit here as a twenty-two year old, young enough to blend in with the students and also still feel old. A mixed sensation of missed opportunities and lost innocence curled and roiled in him, which hardened into a steady resolve. The past was a slow running river, streaming further and further away from him, and he can watch but not interfere. Like a fading wallet and an old picture. The sooner he accepted that - _really accepted that_ \- the more equipped he would be to deal with what’s coming ahead. 

When Herode paused in his explanation, Laurent raised a hand to ask a question, “Would the model be very much sensitive to specifying the wrong covariant relationship, or would the fact that mixed effects have been considered be a sufficient improvement to accuracy?” It was something he had been pondering in his own self-study, and there was only so much one can study on their own.

Herode turned bright eyes on him and launched into a detailed explanation, veering off-track from his intended lecture, and eventually promising to recall a number of prominent journal articles on this topic after the lecture. Professors tended to appreciate students who not only learnt the subject matter, but also gave it some further thought. 

In fact, Laurent had finished studying the entire semester’s worth of material, in half the semester’s time. He had told himself it didn’t matter that he didn’t complete his qualifications, especially if no one found out that he had lied on his resume. If he picked up his education again, on his terms, then who is to say he can’t compare with one of these graduates? The only matter of urgency, and also the main reason why he chose to make contact with Herode now, was that he had rather confidently promised Vannes to look into creating that optimization software… 

Laurent let himself be lulled into his own thoughts by the Professor’s voice, only interrupting a few more times to point out typographical mistakes on Herode’s chalkboard. These same equations have kept him company over the last few months, so it wasn’t difficult to spot at all. It was good to hear the rest of the lecture, even if he already grasped the concepts. When Herode finally announced the end of the class, Laurent packed his things slowly and lingered. It was a calculated action, and he knew it paid off, when the Professor ambled up to him. The rest of the students streamed out with tired footsteps and little chatter, reflecting a consensus, unsurprisingly, that it had been a difficult topic. 

“Are you a maths student here?” He asked. 

“No, I am working on my master’s thesis in the engineering department. On artificial intelligence learning techniques. But I thought it would be a good idea to cement my knowledge with the mathematics formulation behind the algorithms.” Laurent lied easily.

“Oh! I see! Yes that is a part of my interest too!” Herode replied with child-like excitement, somewhat odd for his age, but then again, maths professors were allowed to be strange. “If you need any help, come and look for me. I would be more than happy to discuss.” 

It was definitely going to plan, better than planned actually. “I would really appreciate that.” Laurent said with a practiced bright smile. “Is now... a good time?” 

Herode said it was, and so Laurent spent the rest of the afternoon with him. He was indeed as kind as his reputation suggested, which was one of the reasons why Laurent picked his classes. He was getting an education for free, and he now had a contact for further discussion. When all this was done, he would have a master’s degree in all but name. 

There was just one more thing to do on his day off. 

Laurent had to change buses twice, and walk another 20 minutes to get to where he wanted. Then he saw it, grey and orange panels with the face of a cat or tiger in the distance, and when he got closer, found that the broken neon words above the cat read “Scaredy Circus”. The entrance was the cat’s mouth, supposedly meant to look friendly or scary, depending on how old you were. Metal planks, deconstructed fence wires and other junk were piled in a heap next to the signboard. It was an abandoned theme park.

Laurent stood near the entrance, eyes skimming the features of what would once have been a happy filled-with-laughter place. He had little experience of amusement parks himself. His eyes found what they were looking for under one of the dark rusted quite magnificent rollercoasters, a teenage boy standing by himself with his back towards him. Laurent walked over, musing that it would be terribly unfortunate if the desolate rollercoaster chose this time to fall apart and crush them both. 

The boy whirled around at the sound of footsteps, blue eyes widened with recognition for a second before his face twisted into a panic. 

“How did you find me?”

“Never mind that, Nicaise.” Laurent said calmly. He stood over two meters away – a safe length – and so had to pitch his voice to cross the distance and carry over the light wind.

“You’re going to tell him.” Nicaise’s face became a horrified sneer, marring the young angelic beauty he possessed.

“No Nicaise, I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t give him anything to hold over you.” Laurent didn’t know why Niciase was attached to this place. He didn’t come often, and when he did, he didn’t stay long. Laurent understood that all too well. It was dangerous to indulge in sentimental things, dangerous to have things that you care about. 

“Fuck off.” Nicaise said, pinning Laurent with a stare that lacked any true malicious intent. Laurent counted that as a good sign.

“I came to ask if you wanted to live with me instead. You could go to school.” Laurent said.

“School is for babies. I’m thirteen.” He shrugged.

“Fourteen.” Laurent said mildly, and Nicaise flushed. “ _It’s none of your business._ ” He hissed.

“You know what is coming, Nicaise. You can think on it.” Laurent said.

“And rely on you? You have nothing.”

“Yes you’re right. We might have to ration food between us after all.” 

Nicaise pursed his lips, and then said loudly, “I don’t need you.” He stalked off in the direction that led further into the amusement park, turned a corner and disappeared. Laurent didn’t try to follow. He wouldn’t know all the hiding spots in this place, and if Nicaise didn’t want to be found, well, there was nothing anyone can do.

He proceeded to make his way back to the bus stop, the conversation playing on his mind. He had done what he came to do, and it was a reception to be expected. It wasn’t that Laurent didn’t earn any money when he worked at Starburst Technologies, founded by his parents and owned by his uncle. That salary went into a joint bank account with his uncle, a legacy finance arrangement that if Laurent made a move to change, would alert him to his plans. He withdrew what little he could over six months, careful not to leave traces of an obvious pattern. But when Laurent had checked the account _after_ he had left, it had all been withdrawn. It was petty revenge on his uncle’s part, and even if expected, had inspired a torrent of fury and despondency, driven into a sharp goal: Laurent could, and would, do without that money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

During the day, the ruckus in the office was a competing mash of distinct conversations, both work-related and non work-related, an almost-regular thumping of the door opening and closing, and finite permutations of some number of mobile ringtones. Both traders, Makedon and Damen, had two mobile phones each. The four phones played a game of tag with each other, in similarity to one of those whack-a-mole games. They simply rang one after another thoughout the day, sometimes two at once. Laurent amused himself by deriving the probability of all four ringing at the same time, but so far that event hasn’t actually occurred. The work mobile phones were specialised ones, and automatically recorded trader conversations as evidence of a transaction, which was a standard practice whether in commodity trading, stock exchange or spot trading. It was something Laurent was not used to, having previously been surrounded by other software developers, who barely had a need to converse with other people, much less own _two_ phones. Despite himself, Laurent found that he was enjoying coming to work, riding the highs and lows of the start-up alongside this team of diverse abilities and personalities.

Jord was the one Laurent got along with best. They had initially bonded over copious amounts of eye-rolling over the noise the others unnecessarily made, and then later via exaggerated sighs of relief when they had the room to themselves, both of them preferring quiet spaces. Laurent liked Jord. He was practical and considered in his opinions, and balanced the overly idealistic ridiculous plans that were always being hatched in their part of the office. They also shared (and enjoyed far too much) the hobby of pointing out inconsistencies in the next hedging strategy or pricing strategy being discussed.

After two months, some intensive late nights and a number of illuminating conversations with Herode, who still thought he was a student, Laurent’s optimization software was ready. His preference would have been spending another six months on the prototype, but Vannes put her foot down and declared it fit for purpose. There was going to be an unveiling session this morning, a chance to explain how it was to be used, and also obtain feedback from the rest of the team. This would have contributed to a master’s thesis, maybe even more, given that it was going to be used commercially. If this was Starburst Technologies, it would take months to test and code up the edge cases, but here, there was neither the manpower nor inclination. 

The team made their way to the meeting room, on the other side of the floor, circling round the corridor. Laurent had prepared a presentation, if only to show the pictures and distribute the instructions. Two things came into Laurent’s mind, both related to Starburst Technologies: 1) That a product showcase like this would draw a lot of attention, and 2) Meeting rooms were much more well-equipped to handle showcases. Since they were not at Starburst Technologies, there ended up a good ten minutes of faffing around, lugging a computer monitor from the other side of the office, and dragging the whiteboard from next door. Vannes helped with all this with no complaint. 

Then he started speaking. He began with the purpose and the uses of the software, and then launched into the type of hedging products it could value. Both Makedon and Damen were very interested in this part, and interrupted often with questions. Laurent kept the hardcore mathematics light, skimming over details in favour of broad concepts. At the end he demonstrated the software’s interface, how to select parameters and so on. And then it was done.

Damen was very impressed. It was better, and more detailed, and more aligned to their needs than the catch-all software they currently subscribed to. 

“Can it present the results by half hour as well?” He had asked, and Laurent turned his gaze on him, a rare hint of approval in his eyes, and replied, “Yes, there is the option to look at the results by year, month and half hour. Or any combination of them actually.”

When Damen said, at least three times, at the end, “This is amazing!”, Laurent shrugged as if to say _that’s not half of what I can do_. And Damen found himself smiling. Laurent appeared effortless and nonchalant in his competence, as always, pedantically correcting everyone with ‘median’, when someone called it the ‘mean’.

They were almost to the start of November, and summer was approaching. For the vast majority of the electricity industry, this was a high risk period. For a start-up, it was more like make or break. You could lose a lot of money all at once, and so there was an energy about the office. The strategy had been decided on months ago, and now it was just watching the market and seeing how things play out. Damen was also looking into a new hedging product for Makedon, and Laurent’s software might help.

“Hey Laurent.” He said. 

Laurent turned his head, fingers still typing away on his keyboard, and arched one eyebrow, ”Yes?”

“I’m looking into this new product. Can your software handle that?” He said.

“You would have to give me more details than that.” He replied in amused tones.

“Well, I haven’t quite finalised the details…but it is location related.” 

“Still need more details, Damen.” Laurent said.

And so Damen explained the latest idea he had while Laurent frowned thoughtfully.

“I’ll check.” He said. 

“I still have to work out the rest of the details.” Damen said. “Actually I have a better idea. Let’s make a bet! If you can value that for me, I will buy you a drink, and if not, you can buy me one.” Damen had a sudden urge to interrupt the man’s casual arrogance, perhaps he could settle for disturbing the cool composure a little. 

Laurent took it in stride unfortunately, even seemed to enjoy the game. “And what,” he said, this time pausing in his typing to turn towards Damen, “will you offer me?”

“Whatever you like.” Damen shrugged.

“Well, in that case, I would like a coffee. Preferably, not spilled over my possessions.” He said lazily.

Damen’s lips parted in surprise and then he laughed. It was a rich, warm, deep laughter. “Gotcha.” And then, “I thought you don’t drink coffee.”

Another shrug. ‘I didn’t say that. I only commented on the reliance upon a specific beverage. And what drink would you like?”

“Fair enough. I’ll have a can of coke.” He held out his hand, “Deal?”

Laurent stared at the hand for a moment, almost as if he didn't know what to do with it, and then the moment passed; he put his hand to it. “Deal.” He said, meeting Damen’s eyes squarely.

In Damen’s wide circle of friends and acquaintances, he had known quite a few software engineers and analysts. They tended to be introverted, socially awkward, and kept to themselves. In fact, he had only known one who was not like that – Jokaste. Well, now he knows two. Laurent. Laurent with his biting wit, cool arrogance, and sense of humour. He was smart in a way Damen was not, good with numbers and abstract concepts, but he was also practical with his work clearly, and the combination would make him very high in demand. He found he had a new respect for his desk mate. 

Nik popped in to their office at 4pm that day, mostly to confirm a couple of details with Makedon, but he also took the time to give Damen a high-five. 

“Hey mate,” Nik said. “Friday drinks later?” He directed the question at Damen, but also extended the invite across the office. “I’ve had meeting after meeting all week.” 

“Sure thing.” Damen replied. He found he could use one too. The summer strategy was mostly sorted, and it meant everyone could take a breather. At least for a while, until the next thing turned up.

Nik came again at 6pm to collect them all. By then, Makedon and Vannes had either left or gone to another appointment, as sometimes business discussions were conducted over dinner. Pallas declined, citing fatigue from working late all week, so it was just the two of them, plus Jord and Laurent. Damen was surprised Laurent agreed to come to drinks, as he usually declined. 

They picked a bar, just up the road from their office, a small bar with an old-school feel, 1950s furniture and several over-large stained glass lamps scattered throughout. Laurent seemed tense and somewhat out of place, jumping at the slightest touch. He eyed the alcohol with so much distaste that Damen wondered if it had done something to offend him. _Wouldn’t be too difficult to do that_ , he thought.

“I suppose you don’t drink?” Damen asked. 

“No,” Laurent said. He sat very straight at the couches that the group had found, in contrast to Damen who slouched over the arm rest. “I suppose you are in your element.” He said.

Damen had to attend more functions than he can count in his line of work, official and unofficial, and may have recounted several embarrassing stories in the office of being way too drunk than he should be. It was something else when Laurent pointed that out. 

“Nothing to be proud of.” He muttered. Nik and Jord had taken off to play darts in the other corner of the bar. A suspicion of _something_ wafted into Damen’s mind, and he made a mental note to remember to ask Nik later.

“So how long have you known Nik?” Laurent asked, following Damen’s gaze. 

“Oh we were friends from university. Our families were close too, as we were the only two greek families in the area. Nik’s mom is a very fierce woman. You would not want to offend her.”

“Would I.” Laurent said, every bit like an imperial prince in his arched features.

“Well, okay, maybe not you.” Damen laughed, which earned him a small smile from Laurent. 

“I am going to get something else,” Laurent said, “other than this alcohol.” Laurent got up. When Damen glanced over at Nik, he saw Jord laughing over some joke that Nik made. He didn’t think he had seen the usually serious Jord in this manner before. _Very interesting_.

Laurent didn’t like being in a bar, and fought a queasiness to stay down in his stomach. There were memories he didn’t want to go in to. It was the dark lighting, the smell of alcohol and the knowledge that shielded corners were conveniently overlooked. But Laurent also hated that places did this to him. He was determined to stay and finish one drink. And Damen, was pleasant enough, pleasant to everyone, an easy conversationalist. It was something he envied. People listened when he spoke, even if he was telling one of his many stupid jokes. He easily held a room’s attention. It reminded him of Auguste.

Damen was talking about something, about Makedon, “…in the industry and one of the very best to learn from…”, when Laurent abruptly stood up. “I just realised I have something to attend to. I will…see you next week.” Laurent said. 

He picked up his suit jacket and left, without even putting it on, leaving a very startled Damen behind.

*** 

Things were more or less the same at Lionsheart Energy. It was about a week later that Damen came back to Laurent, reminding him about the bet they had made and emailing him a ton of new information. After spending the morning reading through it, and grilling Damen about what it all meant, Laurent said, “Ok. I think it can be done. Open up the software.”

Damen complied, excited to see how this will go, and then followed the instructions Laurent supplied, keying in all the required parameters. 

“If it works, I will buy you ten coffees!” Damen said, which earned him a look of exasperation.

“That might come in handy if I ever need to kickstart my heart.” Laurent said.

They clicked ‘Enter’, and the software said, “Calculating…”

And then, rather anti-climatically, it produced a blank graph of results. 

“Oh.” Laurent said, “I wonder why.” He frowned. 

“I don’t know, but I think I can see a can of coke in that picture.” Damen joked. 

Laurent smiled, “Oh alright. Well, in theory it should be able to handle these parameters. It might just be the constraints I’ve set. Let me get back to you.” 

Damen grinned. 

“And yes, you can have your drink. Stop looking so damn pleased about it.” He retorted.

Close to the end of the day, Laurent turned up, with not one but two cans of coke. His eyes were bright as he announced, “I’ve brought your coke. And I brought you something else too.” There was a rather suspicious glint in his eyes. “A game.” The rest of the room – full house now – looked up in interest. 

“I’ve shaken one of these cans to death,” Laurent said, pausing theatrically. “The question is, which one? I hear traders like to take a punt.” It was a challenge.

“Ooooh….” Makedon exclaimed, rumbling out laugher. 

Pallas chuckled. “That will teach you to make bets with Laurent.” 

Damen stared between the two cans, “Are you serious?” He laughed. 

“Whenever am I not?” Laurent replied. “In fact, I will save you the analysis. As – ” he surveyed the room pointedly, “ – some of us do that for a living.” More laughter. Jord leaned back in his seat leisurely. “Since I am right-handed, I might have shaken the one aligned to my right hand.” 

“Or because you’re telling me this, you might have switched them.” Damen replied. 

Laurent shrugged casually. “Perhaps. Which will it be, Damen?” He said, as he cocked his head to one side, and his gaze bore directly into Damen.

The rest of the room were already taking sides. It was 50-50 and impossible to predict Laurent. Damen tried to find something, anything, in Laurent's posture or expression that might give him an answer, but found only a general smug self-satisfied air. He checked the two cans thoroughly but again, found nothing. They were just two equally chilled cans. Laurent, meanwhile, simply looked like he was enjoying himself immensely. Damen gave up, and picked the right-hand side one. 

“You might want to clear your desk.” Laurent informed him smoothly.

Damen did as he was told, even as he recognised the jibe. 

And then, nothing happened. It was the good can. Cheers erupted around the room, and Laurent was smiling his brilliant smile still. He looked absurdly beautiful, more beautiful than the universe can handle, and it should make the rest of the world rise up in injustice.

“Better not drink the other one too soon. Or you know what’s coming for you.” Laurent said.

It was twenty minutes later, after everyone had left, that Damen felt the oddest sensation of being tipped over an edge, as yet another picture of Laurent reformed in his mind. It was when he got impatient about waiting, and so gingerly brought his second can of coke to the kitchen, held it out over the sink, and slowly pulled back only a portion of the tab...

Only to find that it was a perfectly good can of coke. Not at all shaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Every comment and kudos makes my day :)
> 
> If things seem slow, I promise it will move along from next chapter onwards.


	4. Chapter 4

Damen sometimes thought of himself as _lucky_ , that his stars somehow knowingly aligned themselves on the matters that were important to him. He knew that Nik would scoff at this. Ever the realist, he would say Damen was an optimist who always managed to find something good out of every situation, and simply _forgot_ when things didn’t go well. But it’s got to be luck today, surely it is, because how else would Damen run into Laurent when he had been thinking of him that morning? 

“You’re actually quite sweet, aren’t you?” Damen said, pushing past his way to stand next to Laurent. 

There was a momentary pause and then Laurent said, “And you took the other can to the kitchen, didn’t you?” Laurent met his gaze with half of a crooked smile. "You don't do as you're told." 

“I got two good cans of coke.” Damen said happily.

“That cost two dollars each. Perhaps they have addled your brain.” 

Damen laughed. They stood companionably in silence. It was the first time Laurent seemed at least a little approachable, his remarks being more prickly than cutting. 

“You could have shaken both cans. I suppose it would have been only fair.” 

“It’s the game I like.” Laurent shrugged.

“Well, pleased to provide entertainment for you.” Damen mimed a flourished bow, “Can I tell everyone how sweet you are?” 

“I have a reputation to maintain you know,” A sidelong glance at Damen. 

Damen laughed. A little while later, and more seriously, he said, “I’ll buy you a coffee. Will you let me? I really am sorry about your wallet.” 

“I...accept your apology, Damen. They are…things… in the past.” Laurent sighed. “I’m sorry I overreacted.” 

Chatter in the office that morning focused on two main pieces of news, one good and one bad. Damen already knew the bad one. The state government had overnight changed from labour to liberal, contrary to popular opinion, and it put all the upcoming legislation on energy policy permanently on hold. This was one of the biggest areas that needed to be legislated. At this point, anything would be better than the outdated 1990s legislation. 

The good news was that there might be a buyer for Lionsheart Energy, which also was the reason why Makedon, Vannes and Pallas were chanting,  
“Cash cash cash, baby!” over and over as Damen and Laurent walked in. Laurent rolled his eyes. 

Later that day, there was another minor event of interest. The CFO hired a new finance analyst, and brought him to their office to introduce him. His name was Aimeric and it turned out that Aimeric knew Laurent from school. 

“Laurent?” He said, as soon as he set eyes on him. “Oh my god, it’s you.” 

“Aimeric.” Laurent said, politely.

Aimeric positively gushed. “Laurent and I went to high school together. He was like the smartest kid in our class. You skipped a couple grades didn’t you? I don’t know where you went after Year 10.” 

“Yeah.” Laurent said, tight-lipped. Makedon chose this time to introduce Laurent's work. 

“Wow! That is so cool you built all this software. I think I remember your family is all into IT isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” Laurent said, again, clearly hoping his bland tone would dissuade further conversation.

The others were looking up with interest, after one by one shaking hands with Aimeric and introducing themselves. 

“It’s good to see you.” Aimeric said with a big smile. “Let’s catch up some time.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Laurent replied. 

Later that day, when Laurent left the office, he thought he saw a flash of a familiar back profile. Nicaise. But if it was Nicaise, either he happened to be walking past, or he had changed his mind about seeing Laurent. There was no point pressing him if he wasn’t ready. 

***

Perfect spring days were almost coming to an end, though the splash of color in the gardens seemed set to stay a little longer. The view from Laurent’s apartment, on the 10th floor, looked out into the inner complex boxed in by three separate apartments. They were currently sporting red and yellow specks in a sea of green. Afternoons have been starting to get unbearably hot with the sun’s rays directly shining in full-length glass windows, which was also where Laurent had his desk positioned. On a day like that, and it was a Saturday no less, Auguste would have dragged him for a swim in a creek, perhaps after a hike, even if the waters were still too cold. Then Laurent would complain about preferring to stay in and read a book, but always end up trudging along.

He certainly wouldn’t be going hiking today, and hadn’t been for almost a decade since Auguste died. Instead, Laurent was spending his time holed up among his 4 computer screens, fingers resting on a specialised keyboard, and deep in thought on the puzzle in front of him.

There must be some evidence, somewhere. Starburst Technologies was the brain-child of his parents, of a modest size but actually quite well-known in some industries. Their key products were specialised analysis software in the utility sector. Laurent essentially grew up taking computers apart, played among stacks of printed code that his parents meticulously went through. When they passed away in a car crash, his uncle took over the company, at that time owning only a small portion of company shares. A few years later, the company fell into disarray and debt, and his uncle put in a sizable amount to save it. Up to this day, he was credited for the miraculous turnaround. But the more Laurent thought about it the more suspicious he got. How did Uncle have so much money to buy it out? Why had it happened so soon after Auguste’s death? The fall into debt and subsequent turnaround was also suspiciously neat and fast. If Laurent could find something incriminating in Startburst’s accounts, he could get his uncle convicted and take back the company. That, in itself is a daunting thought. Twenty-two years old, armed with a developer’s knowledge, with absolutely no business acumen, he felt an imposter deep within his bones. Auguste should have been here to take over the company. It should have been him, not Laurent. In any case, all of it was still some sort of abstract thought, and if Laurent couldn’t find any evidence, it was a moot point.

***

Sunny weekends often meant a respectable cafe crowd in almost any cafe that served brunch no matter the quality. This particular cafe had an austerely simple decor contrasting with the graffiti filled back lane of some difficult-to-find street, and those two aspects combined meant it was packed inside with hopeful queuers ranging about the lane. 

Jokaste strolled into the café, dressed in a simple tank top and a puffed layered skirt that shimmered gold with each step. On any other person, the skirt would have looked ridiculous, but Jokaste looked like she was about to start a new trend judging by the no small number of appreciative head-turns. Her blond hair was styled in large curls that fell to her shoulder and contrasted with the dark sunglasses she wore. She paused a moment when she reached Damen, in a seemingly unconscious pose, before reaching to take her sunglasses off. She managed to look both beautiful and avant-garde cool, and obviously enjoyed every moment of it.

Damen, not wholly impervious to her beauty, was suddenly struck by a realisation that he had not truly known her any more now or then; it was clearer now that the pain of the break-up had mostly dwindled to only a residual nostalgia. She called him yesterday, after months of silence, and said she wanted to meet. Damen couldn’t refuse, or couldn’t resist. How do you come to terms with fact that the girl you were intimate with for two years broke things off so abruptly and without an explanation? How did Damen think he even knew her? It affected Damen more than he would admit to himself, casting a seed of doubt into everything he did.

“You look well.” Damen said, smiling, and found he did mean it.

“I am well, Damen. You look well too.” She said, cocking her head slightly. “I missed you.”

“You didn’t want to see me.” Damen said. “Jokaste, why did we break up?” He asked this question of her so many times, and even more to himself, so couldn’t help asking again, but it was without the urgency and pain that he had before.

“Oh Damen,” She smiled, a wistful beautiful smile.

Jokaste signalled a waiter with one ring-clad elegant finger, “Cappuccino please.”

“Why didn’t we?” She mused. “What have you been up to, these eight months?” She asked.

“Just working, trying out a new gym routine. Not much. Nik’s moved houses since, so I helped with that.” Damen said, allowing her to sidestep the topic.

“Ah yes, those muscles do come in handy some times. I’ll be sure to call on you when I need my things moved?” She asked casually.

“Of course.” Damen answered. Answered the other question. _Can we still be friends? Can you help me if I have need of you?_

“Damen, always so kind and generous.” Damen couldn’t tell if she meant it in a mocking way.

“And still, you didn’t insist.” She said.

“What?”

“Why we broke up.”

“I - I did!” Damen protested, “I called you so many times and I went to your apartment…”

“And then you gave up.” She shrugged as Damen's eyes widened. “No, I am not saying it would have made a difference.”

Jokaste accepted her coffee from the waiter and sipped at it, while Damen could do nothing but stare in confusion. He ran his mind over the events then. Jokaste called one day and ended the relationship, when he thought things were well and they were happy. There was no warning, was there?

“We would have kept on going until it died and I merely got out of it before it happened. I think you understand at least that much of me.”

Damen nodded slowly. He understood it now and maybe he always had. Jokaste could always see things clearer than he did. She saw an end coming and instead of letting things drag out, she had up and left cool-headedly, making the rational choice. She protected herself fiercely, leaving Damen in a mess of confusion and heartache. Perhaps if he reacted differently then, things would have been different. Perhaps if he didn’t stop trying to reach her. They talked of other things, of his parents whom she had met several times, and her side online business in fashion accessories, until there was nothing left to talk about. 

Then she was staring at him, blatantly and unashamedly, a sliver of tenderness in her eyes, and Damen couldn’t tell what she was seeking. She smiled a rueful small smile. “It’s been fun, Damen. Thanks for the coffee.” And then she was gone in a shimmer of skirts. 

Damen paid, and then went home, went for a run, and after that hit the gym, before he decided it wasn’t clearing his head enough. He called Nik up and asked if he could come over. “What’s happened?” Nik asked, worriedly, over the phone, and then “Oh.” When he mentioned Jokaste’s name. “Yeah man, come over whenever.” 

After a shower, and stopping to pick up pizza and beer, Damen drove to Nik’s apartment. When they were kids, their families lived in the same suburban area, only two blocks from each other. Even though both of them have moved out of their respective families’ homes for some years now, they still chose to live close to each other. Normally, Damen would make the 15 min walk, but it was easier to drive with the pizzas. 

“That’s harsh.” Nik said, referring to Jokaste. “You need to stop seeing people like that.”

They had the TV turned to a sports channel but both of them only paid sporadic attention. 

“I’m not.” Damen protested, “Seeing anyone at all. But do you think if I didn’t give up then, we would still be together?”

“You can’t think that way man. No. If you were meant to be, then you would have been, no matter what you had done. Plus, she did say it wouldn’t have changed anything.” 

Damen heaved a dramatic sigh. 

“What about Laurent?” Nik asked.

“What about him?” Damen said. “Did I tell you about the bet?”

“Twice.” Nik said, “And I already heard it from Jord.”

“He’s strange but he’s actually quite nice.” Damen mused thoughtfully. 

Nik raised an eyebrow. 

“No. I wouldn’t date a coworker. We work well together, I don’t want to change a thing. Plus it would be some kind of conflict of interest or something, since technically I am working front office and he’s middle office. Not that anyone is making that distinction in our tiny start-up.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” Nik said, a slow smile forming, obtaining confirmation from Damen’s reluctant response. 

“I don’t know if he likes men, Nik.” Damen scoffed. 

“Well maybe I can find out.” Nik pulled out his phone, alarming Damen at once, his reflexes making a direct sharp pass at snatching it. 

“Don’t call Laurent! Oh my god.” But Nik, having anticipated his best friend of twenty years, stood up out of reach, and pressed a single speed-dial button. 

“Hey Jord.” Nik said, and Damen was too surprised to react. He had meant to ask Nik about that and he forgot. Clearly they moved along at a far quicker pace than Damen could have imagined.

“Yeah hey I missed you too.” – a pause – “Yeah, I know I just saw you yesterday. Hey, is Laurent gay? – another pause – “Ok.” –another pause “Uh - I’ll call you later.”

Damen stared at him dumbly, open-mouthed. 

“Did you just do that?” Damen sat back down on the couch, and buried his face in his hands dramatically. “I can’t believe you. What kind of friend are you? I am going to die of embarrassment.” “As if that hasn’t happened before.” Nik just laughed. “Well?”

“What?” 

“Do you want to know what he said or not?”

Damen stopped and thought about it. Laurent was gorgeous, had beautiful blue eyes and a brilliant smile. That is, when he deigned to smile. And Damen can’t say he wasn’t curious. 

“Relax. Jord won’t tell Laurent.” Nik looked extremely pleased with himself. 

“Fine. Tell me.” 

“Sorry man, Jord doesn’t know.” Nik burst out laughing. 

Damen groaned as he put his head into his hands. “You’re the worst. I don’t know why I came over today.” He grumbled. 

“No buddy. I’m the best. You came round all fired up and I got your mind off Jokaste.” Nik grinned. 

Damen sighed. Nik was right, as usual. “Fine.” He said, rounding on Nik. “Now tell me about Jord. And how _in the world_ did you manage to keep this from me?”

***

Damen spent the next week at the office apprehensively keeping a close eye on both Jord and Laurent, nervous almost to the point of stammering when he spoke to Laurent, who just stared at him with his usual impatient expression. Jord was also as per usual, diligently following up on every sales offer, fastidiously confirming all the details of the investment analysis with Damen. After a week, Damen was fairly certain Laurent didn’t know anything about that conversation. He had begun working closer with Laurent now, trying to incorporate the type of valuation he would do into the software that Laurent built. 

The team got to know Aimeric quite a bit as well, as he was determined to learn more about the energy industry and asked question after question. Laurent, in particular, found himself a shadow, and more often stuck in conversation than he preferred. Aimeric wanted to talk about high school and Laurent didn’t. Aimeric asked him a million questions and Laurent didn’t want to answer. When Laurent ran into him in the kitchen late one evening, he inwardly sighed. 

“Oh you’re still here. It’s Friday.” Aimeric called out cheerfully. 

“So are you.” Laurent said.

“I’m just not familiar with the accounts in the energy industry, so I need to put in more time.”

Laurent picked up a mug from the drawers, filled it with water and then made to move away. “I’ve trying to finish something with Damen, so we can both leave soon. Chat later.” He said.

About 10 minutes later, Laurent felt a strange feeling come over him. He must be getting tired, as he hadn’t been paying attention to what Damen had been saying.

“What did you say?” Laurent asked.

“I was just saying that the risk we’re taking on is different by quarter, and it’s changed since – are you alright?”

Laurent’s mind was swimming and the only thing he could think of was that he had never before noticed the way Damen’s brown curls fell on his eye lashes, that when he shook them out of his face, it stayed right in the same spot. What a pointless action that was. He blinked and when he looked again, there was a hand on Damen’s cheek and it was his own, but he couldn’t feel his fingertips and there was a warm pressure at the back of his palm. 

“I’m dizzy.” Laurent said, and the words dropped from his lips in a haze. Did he say that, or think that? “Dizzy.” He tested the word in his mouth again.

Laurent tried to look at the mug of water he was drinking from, but the mug swam in and out of focus and he couldn’t distinguish the white mug from the white table. Adrenaline spiked through his system as he suddenly realised what was happening. _Nicaise. Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been quite excited about this chapter for a while, so I hope I managed to get it to work. Next one will be up after I spend my weekend editing :)


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m dizzy.”

Damen watched as Laurent carefully stood up, feeling for the edge of the table, and then gripping on to it. He put out a hand to catch Laurent’s elbow when he stumbled once, but Laurent waved him off. If he didn’t know better, he would have said Laurent was drunk. But firstly, Laurent didn’t drink, and secondly they had been together in the same office all day and he would have noticed if he did. 

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Damen asked, and got no reply. Laurent was one-handedly packing his laptop into his backpack, so Damen helped to hold the pack open. He appeared steadier now and stared at him searchingly with blank eyes. 

“I’m going to head home.” He said slowly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and pushing back his chair to make space. Apart from lightly touching the edge of the desk all the way to the front door and his slightly slurred speech, Laurent looked fine. 

“Hang on, I’ll help you.” Damen stuffed his laptop into his bag and followed.

“I’m fine.” Laurent said, shrugging off Damen’s hand.

It was all very bizarre. In the lift, Laurent leaned against the railing, almost as if he chose the furthest position from Damen. His expression was unreadable. Damen thought he should insist on helping Laurent home, but it was the most distant and uncommunicative version of Laurent he had ever seen.

To Damen’s relief, Laurent changed his mind once they exited the building. It was a Friday night and not too late in the evening, so apart from the steady flow of people on the street, there were three men lounging at the side of the office building. One of them stared at Damen with disinterest before looking away.

“Actually,” Laurent began. “If you’re free.” He paused, “ Can you…help me get home?” Damen followed Laurent’s gaze but couldn’t tell what he was looking at. 

“Of course.” Damen said. “I’ll get an Uber.” Damen took out his phone and started opening the app.

“No. No Uber. The line of taxis.” Laurent said. 

“Ok.” Maybe Laurent had something against Uber. 

In the cab, Laurent took his phone out and started typing messages. He looked busy, so Damen didn’t interrupt. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asked at one stage.

Laurent paused in the typing, and stared at Damen for a long time, an odd expression on his face, and then simply said, “No.”

When they reached their destination, a high-rise set of luxury apartments greeted his sight. It was beautifully glass-panelled, with artistically located pockets of green-filled balconies and nooks. How Laurent could afford these apartments on his salary was a mystery. Laurent accepted Damen’s arm as he exited the cab, surveying their surroundings before he continued.

The security of the building matched the extravagance, to the point of being downright ridiculous. First, the outer set of doors required a card key pass. So far so good, but the doors shut so quickly that they only just nearly made it, and the man behind them who had tried to save himself the effort of tapping his pass missed out. After that, there was a set of inner doors where you had to key in numbers into an electronic lock. The number password must have been 7 to 10 digits long, judging by how long Laurent took to key it in. 

As if that wasn’t enough, the security guard at the reception desk seemed to make it his life’s mission to stop Damen from getting through. He was an older man, likely in his sixties, with a trim of grey at the both sides of his head, and the physique of a marathon runner. Sharp narrowed eyes roamed over Damen and his face seemed set on a permanent scowl. On the reception desk, it read, “Arnold H. Verelius”.

Arnold barked out, “All visitors must sign in.”

“Look my friend is sick, I need to get him home.” Damen said. 

Arnold stood up, revealing a taser and baton on his belt, the scowl on his face deepening. “All visitors must sign in.” He repeated. This time it was a threat.

Damen guided Laurent the few steps towards the reception desk, and then let go of him, whereupon he clung on to the desk. He was visibly sagging now, and made no move to say anything to Arnold.

“Ok. What do I do?”

Arnold then slapped a form attached to a clipboard. 

“Fill it in.” He said. 

Damen did. Name, Date and contact number.

“Driver’s licence.” Arnold said.

“What?” 

“You don’t understand English or something? Fancy university degrees do nothing for ya?” Arnold looked Damen up and down, obviously judging him based on his tailored suit. 

Goddamn security guards who take their jobs way too seriously. Damen pulled out his wallet and fished for his driver’s licence, allowing Arnold to take his time scrutinizing it, looking between him and the card several times. Damen wished he could say that was all, but Arnold then proceeded to take a photo of the driver’s licence, transferring the photo to the reception computer, and then another photo of himself, before he was allowed to proceed. In other circumstances, he would have complained about the unauthorised snap of his picture, but he was in a hurry to get Laurent home. 

“Do you ever get annoyed with your security guard?” Damen asked him, but Laurent, eyes half shut, only said, “Why would I?” 

They took the lift up, which required yet another swipe of a key pass, and got off at the 10th floor. Laurent took out his keys, almost dropping it once, before managing to unlock the door, and there was yet another number lock. It was a good thing Laurent could still remember how to work the locks in his inebriated state.

Once inside, Damen was surprised by how bare Laurent’s apartment was. It was clearly expensive, boasting marble kitchen tops, solid wood panelled floorboards and modern appliances. Lighting was functional but encased in beautiful multi-faceted glass coverings. At the far end of the living room was a single desk, filled with four monitor screens and various electronics, and beside that on the floor a number of dumbbells. The kitchen top, just a few steps to the left from the entrance, was completely empty, devoid of even a microwave. 

Laurent seemed to have forgotten about him by now, feeling his way along the walls and into one of the bedrooms. Damen followed, partly because Laurent looked unsteady enough to fall over now, and partly unable to help his curiosity about the rest of his apartment.

The bedroom was equally bare. Mirrored built in robes lined the far side of the wall and the en-suite bathroom was off another wall. There was a single mattress, and next to that, on the carpeted floor, two well-worn books, a wallet and a picture. There were literally no other items in sight. Damen recognised the wallet immediately.

“Laurent, are you ok? Should I get a doctor?” 

“No.” 

God, he was stubborn. 

“You – are you _poisoned_?” Damen thought it sounded pretty far-fetched to even his own ears. But Laurent sat down on his bed, his head bowed down and mumbled, “It’s not fatal.”

“ _What?_ ” Damen exclaimed. “What poison is it?” He asked, horrified. The night was turning from bad to worse. 

“Get me some water.” Laurent said, and pulled out his mobile phone.

Damen went back out the corridor to the open kitchen and looked in the cupboards for glasses. He didn’t find any, until he remembered that Laurent had this unusual habit of drinking water from mugs. In fact, most of the cupboards were empty too. Damen found two mugs in the drawer together with exactly two sets of cutlery. 

Laurent must be a minimalist. In recent years, the minimalist design had started to become trendy, and it was something to be proud of to be able to Marie Kondo your entire home. Laurent seemed to have achieved it with astounding success. 

When he went back to the bedroom, Laurent was fast asleep, mobile phone in hand, and backpack thrown in the middle of the bed. Damen checked that he was breathing, just in case, before he sat the mug down beside the bed, put Laurent’s mobile phone by the side and took the backpack out of the bed. He moved Laurent’s head so that he was lying on the pillow fully, and then slid up the light covers for him. Was it creepy to stare at Laurent while he slept? Probably. But even in sleep, he didn’t look peaceful. He looked pale and very young and twitched every so often. He was still wearing his usual boots, high laced up ones that were uncommon but very stylish on him - the office had come to know it as distinctly Laurent’s style -, so Damen decided to help him remove them. He knelt at the end of the bed as he did that, finding that it actually took some time due to all the laces. At the back of the right boot was a knife sheathed in the leather, cleverly concealed to blend in with the rest of the material. Damen pulled out the blade staring at it for a few moments before replacing it. Another puzzle that was Laurent.

After that Damen took care to move the rest of the scattered items away from the mug, not wishing to be responsible for a second accidental spill over the same wallet, and couldn’t help but linger at the small brown-stained photograph where two young boys stared back at him, one had a hand swung casually around the other’s shoulder. One was blond while the other had more of a light caramel brown hair. The resemblance couldn’t be missed. He ran a hand though his hair, as all the disparate pieces of information in his mind rearranged themselves in a coherent picture. And with it, the memory of just before, when Laurent, in his confusion, had reached a hand out and touched his cheek, swam into focus. Damen was only just now remembering how his heart had pounded in his chest then and how soft and cool Laurent’s hand felt against him. 

Laurent, cool, calm and generally distant, had snapped at him on his second day at work, because he had spilled coffee on what was clearly an important possession, perhaps even the most important possession he had. He called them _things in the past_ later, and Damen suddenly found he didn’t want to know who the other face was. A sort of helpless feeling bubbled in him, as he found that there was nothing he could do for Laurent. Neither of them had any dinner before this all happened, so eventually, Damen wandered back out to the living room to see if he could find some food. 

He found a few instant cup noodles, some milk, cheese and half a dozen eggs in the fridge. The freezer was devoid of anything edible unless you counted several bottles of frozen water. There was also the option of going out to buy food, or getting pizza delivered, but Damen didn’t want to deal with Arnold and definitely didn’t know all the number combination locks. Perhaps he could call Laurent’s parents, but Laurent’s phone was locked. Damen decided to make do with one of the cup noodles and some milk. 

There was still something that didn’t quite make sense to him. Despite the strange events that occurred over the evening, Laurent didn’t seem panicked or even surprised that he had been (accidentally?) drugged. He had said it wasn’t fatal, which meant he knew what drug it was. But if he knew what it was, why didn’t he want a doctor? No answers came to him. It didn’t feel right to leave Laurent, so he just sat down at the edge of the bedroom, with his back against the wall. Pulling out the phone, he typed into Google, the words, “looking drunk drug”, and the second item on the list almost made him throw up. It read “Date-Rape Drug List and Side Effects”. It still didn’t make any sense, did Laurent ingest it accidentally, or did someone drug him? When had they done that? Laurent had been in the office with Damen almost all of the whole day. What would it accomplish anyway, since all it seemed to do was put Laurent to sleep? 

Eventually Damen got up to switch off the light, and lay down on the carpet, using his backpack as a pillow, and throwing his jacket over himself. 

***

When Damen woke the next morning, it was to sunlight glaring down at him and a pair of hard blue eyes watching him. He blinked several times, feeling the punishing stiffness in his limbs from sleeping on the floor and pushed himself to sit up with one hand. 

“What are you doing here?” Laurent’s voice was dangerously chilled.

“Are you… feeling better?” Damen asked cautiously. 

“How did I get home?”

“I – You don’t remember?” Damen frowned. 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, and Laurent looked like he was about to throw a weapon at him. Damen quickly continued, “You said you were dizzy, and I helped you get home. You didn’t want a doctor, and I was worried, so I stayed just in case.” Damen watched as Laurent blinked, and then looked away. He then picked up his phone and started scrolling through it. When he next looked up at Damen, there was something assessing there before he quickly shuttered it away. He glanced once at his boots lined up neatly by the side of the mattress. 

“I got your shoes off so you would be comfortable. That’s all.” Damen said.

“I - understand. Thank you,” Laurent said in measured tones, “for helping me home.” Laurent stood up and walked to the bedroom door. “You can go now. I’m fine.” 

“Wait – ” Damen said. “You – What happened? I don’t understand.” 

Laurent only gave him another long stare, although he seemed decidedly less cold now, “Look, I want to wash up and change out of these. And I’m sure you want to do the same.”

“Ok. But can I come back?” Damen said.

There was an awkwardly long pause, and then reluctantly, “if you want to.” 

“Yes of course I do. I’ll bring you something to eat. I ate your cup noodles last night. I should replace them.”

“Alright. But no need to replace that.” Laurent said.

“Will you help me get through Arnold when I come back? I swear he’s out for me.” Damen was rewarded with an amused smile from Laurent, softening his features and it warmed him more than he expected. 

Laurent showered and then dressed in jeans and a plain T-shirt. Either he owed Damen quite a lot now, or Damen was the one that drugged him. The latter scenario was probably the less likely one, because Laurent thought he knew who might have done it…

The only problem was that he had no hard proof. Which meant he had to find some. Always the same old story of his life. Laurent tried to put his mind to work on it, but the one thing he could always count on was failing him now. He woke up that morning, memories of the last night fragmented and disordered, and physically uncomfortable still dressed in work shirt and pants. His stomach was empty with a dull ache and his head was throbbing. 

Sitting at his desk in the living room, he swivelled around in the chair, and looked out the window into a bright sunny day of clear blue skies, the kind that Auguste loved, and simply couldn’t summon the warm feelings it usually brought. 

His uncle had tried to kill him, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should resolve most questions. Update before the weekend. 
> 
> On another note, I am finally setting the fic rating to 'explicit', as after a draft 1600 words of smut, I decided yes maybe I can write this after all ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Laurent’s phone was buzzing, and rattling the desk as it did so, jolting him slightly. The name that flicked up on the screen said ‘Damen – Lionsheart Energy’. It was earlier than he had expected and he still had not found any information that would confirm Damen’s innocence in all this. Maybe Damen was working for his uncle. Maybe Damen was being blackmailed by his uncle. Somehow, his uncle had managed to stage it all as a coincidence. Maybe the coffee spill was intentional. Laurent _couldn’t be sure_.

But he wanted to be. He thought about it. Damen could be someone who helped him out of the kindness of his heart and nothing else; things could be simple. Hell, he _wanted_ it to be simple for once in his life. 

The phone rang out, and Laurent made a decision. He texted Damen to say that he will come and get him, then left his apartment picking up his keys and access pass on the way out. Damen stood outside peering in with a frown, but was otherwise dressed more casually in a simple striped T-shirt and shorts. He looked fresh, hair still damp from a shower and he was clean-shaven.

Damen, who had been expecting to be stopped by Arnold again, was astonished when the man ignored him entirely and smiled – actually smiled – at Laurent. 

As they got in the lifts, it suddenly occurred to Damen, “Did he do all that to me yesterday, because he was suspicious of me?”

“Do what?” Laurent said innocently, even though he knew exactly what. He had an illuminating conversation with Arnold that morning, and Laurent already thanked him sincerely for his efforts. 

Damen frowned and stared at Laurent, who couldn’t resist a slight quirk of his lips. “You know exactly what.” He said, and then smiled when it was confirmed by Laurent’s half shrug. “He was really suspicious of me?” 

“You don’t think you look suspicious? ”

“But he had the visitor sign in forms.” Damen protested.

“I actually have never seen one of those.” Laurent said. “I think he just wanted to delay you, so he could pick up anything suspicious.” Laurent leaned back against the railings, in a pose reminiscent of the night before, though this time much more deliberately. His blond hair gleamed gold in the light.

“I feel very wounded now. I was trying to help you.” Damen said.

“There, there.” Laurent said, quite condescendingly, before his lips quirked into a full smile. Damen found himself smiling back.

There was just one problem with all the food that Damen had brought. Laurent didn’t own a dining table. 

“Yes, I realise that is a problem. I wasn’t… expecting guests.” He said.

“I don’t mind. We can sit on the floor.” Damen said.

When Damen unpacked all the food, Laurent arched one eyebrow and said, “Did you just buy an entire café’s menu?” 

“Um, I wasn’t sure what you liked.” Damen grimaced. He may have gone a little overboard. There were two serves of eggs on toast, a side of mushrooms and haloumi cheese, blueberry pancakes and several muffins. 

“You could have asked?” Laurent said.

“I – I didn’t want to disturb you.” He said, “You looked like you wanted time to yourself.” 

A startled expression flashed across Laurent’s face. He was not used to someone else acting in thoughtful ways towards him, and he looked down at the food without saying anything. 

“You must be hungry. You didn’t have dinner yesterday.”Damen said.

Laurent wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to eat, but his stomach definitely needed the food. He picked up one of the muffins and nibbled some bites. While Laurent sat very straight and ate delicately, Damen wolfed down the eggs and toast, and for a while they simply ate in silence. Damen had a lot of time to think about Laurent since, and it was starting to come together.

“Do you trust me, Laurent?” He suddenly said. 

When Laurent didn’t immediately give a reply, he got his answer. “I didn’t do that to you.” Still, Laurent stared at him without saying anything. Damen racked his brains, trying to think of something that would prove his innocence, but he couldn’t find anything. He was the one that was alone in the office and he had the most access to Laurent. 

“I –” Damen began.

“I know.” Laurent said, seeming to make a decision. “I think I know who did that, but I need some time to find proof.”

“You’re not going to tell me who.” It was a statement. 

Laurent shook his head. “I can’t be sure. Not yet.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Laurent had never told any of this to anyone. He spent a few moments weighing it up. How much to tell Damen? Would it put him in a vulnerable position? What if it could buy him some help? He shifted so he leaned back against the wall, in a bid to stall for time, to think, but also to find a comfortable position. “Do you know Starburst Technologies?” He asked.

“I’ve heard of them.”

“Starburst Technologies was founded by my parents. They died in a car accident when I was young –”

“Wait, didn’t you visit them some time ago?”

“Their graves.” Laurent said irritably, and waited as Damen absorbed that, and then continued speaking before Damen could interrupt again. “My uncle, who was also a shareholder in the company, managed the company on my family’s behalf. 9 years ago, the company ran into debt and was almost bankrupted. He bought the company out. Auguste was still alive then. My brother. He would have inherited the company, but what could he do? He didn’t have the money to give to our creditors, so he signed the company over to my uncle. Six months later he died in an accident, in an overseas hiking trip” 

“I’m so sorry…” Damen said. “You must have been very young,” Damen calculated in his head, “Thirteen or fourteen.” 

“He was everything to me.” Laurent said quietly, looking away for a brief moment. 

“I didn’t know it then. But for a while now I have been suspicious of my uncle. I think what happened is that he deliberately put Starburst into debt, trailed the money around so it went to him, then used the same money to buy it back. I’m still trying to prove that.” 

“I worked there for almost two years, but my name… is worth nothing there now. He sabotaged my projects and turned everything I made into something it was not. It was wearing me down, looking out for traps all the time. People I work with… and bought by him.”

“So I made plans to leave. I got this job. I sold half my possessions so I could have cash, and I left Starburst on the same day I moved into this apartment.”

“You put the money into the bond and first month’s rent.” Damen’s eyes widened. He knew all about risk. He should know since he and Makedon managed Lionheart Energy’s million dollar assets, and he cannot remember a time where he would have put all his eggs into one basket. “That is a lot of risk.” He said.

“Funny you say that. It was actually more.” Laurent let out a mirthless breath.

Damen couldn’t remember ever seeing Laurent like this. He had seen Laurent, cool and distant, quick wit with sharp words. He had seen Laurent bright-eyed and playful. At the same time, he was serious and precise when it came to his work. But never had he seen him so _unhidden_ , raw emotion so evident in his face. Or at least, Damen thought, this was Laurent with some of his defences down. 

“That’s what all this security is for.” Damen said. “You rented this apartment for the security. It must be at least half your salary. You weren’t even surprised when you were drugged. You kept your cool and handled it.” Damen said. He recalled how Laurent, silent but doggedly taking slow steady steps to walk on his own. 

“More than half.” Laurent said, as his eyes drifted off into memory. “And I was surprised the first time.” 

“There was another reason why I left. I got lucky. There was a laptop that I was meant to work on. It exploded, and the laptop sleeve, which shouldn’t have been made of flammable material, was. Everything on my desk was destroyed.” Laurent said, and then bitterly, “He settled for the consolation prize of destroying half my equipment.” 

Damen had balled his hands into fists. 

Laurent frowned. “If you feel the need to hit something, please do that outside my apartment. I think you’ve worked out by now that I don’t have the money to repair any of this expensive shit.”

Damen wanted to hit something. Very much so. He wanted to ask Laurent how he had managed to bear all of this. Surely it was too much for one person to bear, but Laurent was stubbornly living this life, meticulously planning and plotting just to survive. That realisation sparked an uncomfortable thought of how privileged his life, up till now, had been. Money had never been an issue for his family, and his job being making money for the company, paid very well. 

“Wouldn’t you have some savings from the time you worked at Starburst?” Damen asked.

“It was in a joint account. I didn’t want to risk my uncle working out what I was doing. I thought I would live here until I can find a way to convict my uncle, and get my company back.” Laurent said, and in response to something in Damen’s face, he looked away, then got up and said, “I’ll get us water.” Laurent washed two mugs by the sink taking his time to clean and dry them, perhaps also to pause the conversation and collect his own thoughts. He filled them with tap water and then returned. 

Damen said, “I don’t understand what he would accomplish with the date-rape drug.” 

Laurent shifted almost minutely, "Figured it out, did you? You didn’t see the others?” And then it came to Damen. He _had_ seen it, but it didn’t register then. A prickle of cold spread across his skin as the realization hit. This was serious. They meant to hurt Laurent.

“Describe it to me.” Laurent said, interrupting Damen’s horrified thoughts.

So Damen did. There were three men in suits, with dark glasses, even though the sun was setting, waiting outside the office. They left when Damen and Laurent boarded the cab. The man outside Laurent’s apartment had wanted to follow them in. 

“He had a pass, and he knew the outside combination, but he didn’t get past Arnold.” Laurent said.

“That’s why you changed your mind.” _Oh_ , Damen was no where close to understanding what was going on. But Laurent only looked blankly at him. 

“I don’t know everything that happened. I can’t _remember_.” Laurent was sitting up now, arms folded around himself, and fingertips pressed in with frustration. “All I have are a couple of notes I wrote down in my phone.” _Oh._

“Why didn’t you tell me to go to the police? Why aren’t we at the police?” Damen pressed. 

Laurent looked at him strangely. “Apparently, I picked up the office mug directly from the drawer. No one touched it.” 

“Ok, so… the drug was from the water tap?” Damen frowned, not understanding.

“Oh, trust you to be so – Damen, you’re the biggest suspect here.” Laurent said. “Do I need to spell it out for you?” 

“Woah – no! I swear, I didn’t do that.” 

“Yes, I know that,” Laurent sounded like he was explaining something to a child. “I’m just saying – that’s what it would look like.” _Oh._

“You – You don’t want to go to the police because they would investigate _me_?” He said, somewhat dumbfounded.

“Not just because of you, idiot. It will only point the police in the wrong direction. I need solid evidence against my uncle.” 

Sometimes, Laurent was a real condescending bitch. 

But he was already softening. “I owe you my thanks. Probably more than that.” Laurent said, somewhat reluctant. “You saved my life.” 

“You saved your own.” Damen returned. “You figured it out quickly. It’s… amazing, how you did all that under the influence of the drug.”

But Laurent stared at him with a piercing gaze. “No Damen, amazing is if I worked it out sooner and sidestepped it all. But here I am, half a night of memories missing and plagued with a headache.” As if to illustrate the point, Laurent pressed a hand hard against his head. “I feel the opposite of amazing.” The words gritted out softly. 

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair what you have to deal with. What can I do? What can I do for you?” Damen said, but no reply came. “Whatever you need, you can count on me.” He said.

“Thank you.” Laurent met his eyes, regaining some of the composure he started out with. He started packing away the food. “Thank you for bringing the food over. I still have to… retrieve… some information that might sort this out.” It was a dismissal. 

“Okay.” Damen said easily. “You will call me if you need anything? I always have my phone on me.” He grinned, “Occupational hazard.” 

A hint of a smile ghosted Laurent’s face as he nodded tiredly. 

***

Summer opened with a torrent of rain and sharp shivery winds in some sort of ironic joke, forcing the city to don their winter coats again. A cold summer was good. Not necessarily profitable, but good. Good for the transmission network, good for the population and good for the politicians. A cold summer meant no risk of blackouts, no risk of decrepitated generators breaking down, and none of the ridiculous debate about the unreliability of renewable energy. It’s too bad a single day doesn’t mean anything, and the energy industry would still be carefully watching how the rest of summer will play out. 

Laurent caught Aimeric before he entered the office building, before he even exited the train station, and he cut across Aimeric’s path before he could pretend to not notice him. 

“I’ll cut to the point.” Laurent said, pre-empting any pleasantries Aimeric was about to make. “Someone transferred $50,000 to your bank account. He hedged his bets in case you fail.” Laurent pushed a sheet of paper on to Aimeric’s chest. “Which you did.”

Laurent watched as confusion gave way to understanding in Aimeric’s face, and then changed into terrible, terrible betrayal. His face paled by several shades and his lip had started to tremble. 

“I don’t think I need to explain why this puts you in a very bad position.” Laurent said, “should I decide to go to the police.”

“I suppose you’re here to gloat over my downfall. You want to say I deserve it?” Aimeric trussed his chin up, “Well, you’re right. I deserve it. Happy?” He gritted the words out.

“On the contrary, I came here to give you some instructions.” Laurent said calmly.

“ _What?_ ” 

“Go to the bank.” Laurent said, “Withdraw that $50,000. Buy a plane ticket, and go anywhere. Go to Australia for all I care. Because if you’re not in jail, you can be sure you’ll be the next one dead in the gutter.” 

“Not in…You’re not…” And then, “He won’t! He _loves_ me.” Jaw clenched and red-faced, Aimeric sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. He clutched his messenger bag so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“ _And what else will you do in the name of love?_ ” The words spilled from Laurent involuntarily, an outward sign of his slipping control. It wasn't loud but Aimeric flinched in response. 

“You make me sick.” Laurent said. He walked away then, desperately needing to regain a semblance of self, and leaving Aimeric, a solitary lone figure among the shifting morning crowd.

Laurent didn’t handle it as well as he had planned, and there was nothing to do about that. It was as much Laurent could do for someone who had played a part in his attempted murder. Reality was brutal. If Aimeric managed to stop deluding himself and survive the truth of his uncle, perhaps he would find a way out of this ugly mess. The encounter took more out of Laurent though he refused to let it show. He did his best to focus on other things instead. Take one step at a time. Feel the hardness of the floor. See the color of the gravel. Hear the train rolling over the tracks. 

This is what it feels like to look in a mirror and see a spectre of a past. 

***

“You can’t just trust software.” Laurent was saying. “It’s smart, but not that smart.” 

“It’s better than anything I can calculate.” Damen was unfazed by what was becoming a typical Laurent lecture.

“The whole point is to use it as base guideline and then adjust it by your specific knowledge of the market. Do I need to recite the list of assumptions again? What the software calculates and what you want it to calculate are two different things. ”

“Alright, I got the point.” Damen said, properly chastised. 

“I’ve been saying the same thing for six months,” Jord interrupted, laughing. “How did you get Damen to listen?”

“Hey. I do listen.” Damen protested. “The truth is, you guys do such good work and I always know it can be relied on.” 

“Haha. Nice try.” Jord said. Laurent didn’t answer.

Damen had to wait till late afternoon for him and Laurent to be the only ones in their office. Then he turned to Laurent, “Are you alright? You seem on edge today.”

“Am I alright?” Laurent repeated, glaring at Damen, and made as if to say more. Then he turned away abruptly, and when he next looked at Damen, his expression was unreadable again. “I’m fine.” He said, with a tone that indicated the end of the conversation. There was no more chance to talk for the rest of the day, as Damen was hooked into one discussion after another. One of the ways for a start-up to transition is to be sold, and in most cases an international reputable firm buying them out was a pretty damn good thing. But the energy business is a very specific game, and if the parent company knew nothing about energy, it would pose problems down the track. 

When Damen returned from the last meeting of the day, he was glad to catch Laurent just as he was leaving. They walked together to the bus stop, both of them silent at first. 

“I asked Aimeric to leave.” Laurent suddenly spoke. “I hope he’s on the plane to somewhere far away now.” 

“Aimeric…” Damen said. “You mean he…?” Laurent didn’t answer. “He admitted it?” 

“He didn’t have to.”

“How did you know?” 

Laurent ignored that too. “He did it for him, you know. Believed in love and all that nonsense. Never imagined my uncle would set him up to take the fall.”

Damen’s mind stalled and he blinked several times, as he realised what Laurent was saying. Damen’s uncle was more than twice their age, and Aimeric would be about Laurent’s age. Laurent looked at him with a strange expression on his face.

“It’s not stupid to believe in love.” Damen said, and started to say more. 

“It is, when it comes to my uncle." Laurent insisted. "And when the scales fall from his eyes, he will have to come to terms with all that he has done. You want to ask why I didn’t turn him in? He’s punished enough. Or will be.” There was a faraway look in Laurent’s eyes. 

Damen made a decision. “Come on, let’s go get dinner.” 

“What?” Laurent looked at Damen irritated. 

“Let’s go.” Damen stood up. “You don’t look like you should be alone with your thoughts tonight.” 

“And you think your thoughts are such a good alternative?” A familiar arched look had now replaced the previous melancholy. 

Damen grinned, “I know so.”

There was a pause, as Laurent seemed undecided.

“We don’t have to. If there is something else that will help take your mind off this, we can do that too.” Damen said, more seriously.

Something determined came over Laurent’s face. “Let’s go.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments!! 
> 
> It will be more than 10 chapters unlike my initial plan. I wanted to quickly finish this off, but I've realised now that I've underestimated the other things that need to happen before the stuff I planned can happen. 
> 
> Next chapter will finally make some progress on Laurent and Damen. :)


	7. Chapter 7

“Fears of extreme heatwaves have led the United Energy Regulator to lock in a step up of 4500 megawatts of reserve energy.” Damen read the day’s headlines aloud.

“4500.” Makedon repeated, frowning a little, and then tilted his head in a gesture that meant it was not a bad number. “Kinley 2 will be back up by January. No one in their right mind will constrain the solar farms in summer.”

“At least we hope so.” Damen replied. 

“Just more duct tape on a broken pipe.” Vannes chimed in with a frustrated huff. “Not the transmission lines. They’re probably the newest thing in the system.” 

This prompted more back and forth about the energy legislation, the fact that the effect of climate change was being felt everywhere in the energy industry for years, and yet investments in renewable energy was being cut down with no sustainable plan for the future. Although locking in reserve energy was a good thing, reactive decisions like that were unfavourable to small companies that did not have the financial means to shift their strategies at the last minute. The office soon descended into a general noisiness as the rest of the team joined in to speculate and complain about the industry. 

At mid morning, the CEO stuck his head in their office, and reminded everyone about the documents required for the sale negotiations currently in progress. Once half of December has passed, majority of large businesses would be winding up for the end of the year and then no more progress can be made on the sale. That meant it was in their best interests to get to the point where there was a real chance of the sale going through. Or find out now that it was unlikely to proceed, and then they can all stop wasting their efforts there. The sale wasn’t the only big event going on. With a couple weeks left to the current quarter, now was the time to make any last adjustments to the strategy. Once the next quarter began, the game would change. Chances are, if you think it is a good time to buy, or sell, so does everyone else, and market prices will reflect that. Makedon gave the team task after task, with barely any time in between to catch their breath. Everyone did their best to tick things off before it all piled up. 

The entire office building was a renovated version of an older styled building with only eleven floors, which made it one of the smaller buildings in the city. On the outside, it had the old European architecture with intricate curved designs and even balconies that once upon a time, could actually be accessed from the inside. Everything was much more modern once you entered the building. It had three entrances, one on the north side and two on the south side. Of the two south entrances, one of them opened to two flights of stairs going up towards a landing and then the lifts could be accessed after a left turn and several steps going down. It was probably an aesthetic choice, but it resulted in that entrance being the least popular option, as no one wanted to walk up the stairs and then down again in a route of inefficiency. An unexpected advantage of the design was that it became a moderately popular lunch spot. Had building management put in some tables and a couple of microwaves at the corner, it might actually start to get crowded. 

Damen and Laurent had taken to having lunch together by these stairs, in some kind of wordless agreement. Actually, it was more that Damen intruded on Laurent’s lunch spot, as Laurent had been going to the south entrance stairs long before Damen did. But Laurent accepted Damen’s presence in a way that would have not been possible a few months ago. 

Sometimes Laurent would talk about books he had read in the past, describing fantastical worlds and tales of daring and adventure. Damen found that Laurent could talk a lot when he wanted to. Up to a point. He would wait till Damen got interested in the stories and the characters, impatiently asking, “What happens next?”, and then hold back with an airy “I’ve got to get back to work. Next time.”  
Damen privately thought that Laurent enjoyed this way too much. 

However, Laurent was also unexpectedly warm when Damen told him about how Jokaste left him. Laurent listened for the most part and then asked a few questions. Eventually he declared, “It wasn’t anything you did.” 

“How do you know? You don’t know her.” Damen replied.

“But I’m coming to know you.”

Damen felt his lips dry as he stared at Laurent. And then Laurent ruined the moment with “Not by choice. Some of us are stuck in that office with you eight hours a day, five days a week.” He said deadpanned. Damen made a face at him, and felt very satisfied when Laurent couldn’t keep his straight face.

Damen also started helping Laurent sort through the hacked Starburst accounts, which Laurent thought had a high chance of yielding some results because it was where he had been poking into when his uncle made a move on him. He first realised they were hacked accounts, when Laurent had made a comment about how long it had taken him to crack the security. And when Damen’s jaw had dropped so far below his chin (“You _hacked_ their systems?”), Laurent was thoroughly unimpressed (“Pay attention will you? How else do you think I’m going to get to see the financial accounts of any company?” He said.) Damen, who had never done anything illegal in his life, found himself in a surreal world where anything went. 

He commented on this to Laurent, which led to the first setback in their fledging friendship. “You’re breaking the law, and doing all this like it’s some play against your uncle.” Damen said. 

“This? This gives us a fair chance. You don’t know anything, _anything_ about my uncle.” Laurent’s eyes flashed angrily at him and he walked away. Damen wanted to talk to him, but Laurent was no where to be found after that. Their office wasn’t strict about actually being in the office, so Laurent could have taken his laptop and worked anywhere he liked. 

***

Rows and rows of tombstones stood unyielding in the graveyard, all of them of the same height and width, all of them of the same curved shape at the top, all of them impassively at attention as if they were an army of stone soldiers. Laurent’s parents’ graves were separate from Auguste’s, which was by the side at the far end, and next to an immense willow tree. The setting sun shone through the branches and leaves, and made a beautiful sight, if rather tragic. It was one of the willow hybrids commonly known as the weeping willow. Laurent leaned against its trunk. In a short while, the sun would set and the graveyard would be drenched in darkness. Laurent would have to leave then, but he judged he had another 10 minutes or so. 

This life that he was leading now would not be one that either his parents or Auguste would have imagined. Sometimes he would come here and he would admit to Auguste, and himself, that he didn’t know what to do. Laurent fervently hoped he was making the right choices - letting Aimeric go, turning his software skills into hacking, carving out more of his day to train his body, to be stronger. Auguste was the only person he could tell anything to, the only person he trusted. That was strictly not true, actually. There was one other person. Damen. Damen, with his high ideals of morality and his transparent emotions, unaware of so many things and yet… 

When had Laurent become so immutably fixed on playing this game with his uncle? Drawn deeper and deeper without even realising it. Oh yes, it came to him. Young and impressionable then, and painfully lonely without his brother. There was no taking it back, rewind and rerun, there was just accepting things the way they are, and moving forward. Keep focused on his goal of destroying his uncle, and who cares to what lengths Laurent might go to do that…

Except he did care, and Damen had been right about something. Laurent needed to make sure he didn’t get caught up in his uncle’s traps. He needed to be outside the trap and thinking on his own, not playing within the bounds of what his uncle expected. He needed to do this on his own, without assuming Damen would be there to help him.

An accountant. What he needed was a qualified accountant, or a corporate finance lawyer, who would be willing to deal with hacked accounts, and who could find the problems with it. Whoever he found must be reliable and not easily tempted to sell the information to his uncle. 

***

Damen and Nik were taking advantage of the warm Tuesday evening to cool down in the pool. Evidently, this was what the rest of the city thought, so all the pools were crowded. Both Damen and Nik occupied the ‘Fast’ lane, doing lap after lap of different strokes. It was a routine from the time they were kids, racing each other all the time. After Damen went through his last growth spurt, he started winning consistently, so Nik didn’t bother racing him anymore. 

“Nik, I’ve never met anyone like Laurent.” Damen said, breathing hard, when they both stopped for a break. 

“You said the same thing about Jokaste too.” Nik rolled his eyes. 

“That’s different.” 

“No it’s not. You know what I think?” Nik said, “I think you like a challenge. You want the ones that don’t fall into your lap.” 

“That’s not true” Damen protested, then seriously considered it because if there was anyone who knew him best, it was Nik. “It’s... hard to get to know Laurent. He holds his cards close to him, doesn’t reveal what he thinks. But he -” Damen paused, “he’s had a tough life, and well, I think if I were him, I wouldn’t be able to handle it like that.” 

“What’s happened to him?” Nik frowned. 

“Uh I probably shouldn’t say. It’s not my story to tell.” 

“Okay, so far all I know about Laurent is that he’s got a complicated history and he skirts around the truth. I don’t know what’s up with this guy. Jord thinks highly of him too. I’m sure he’s great for the team, but Damen, he doesn’t sound like relationship material, and I think you should stay away.”

“I like him, Nik. And now I think he’s mad at me.” Damen said miserably.

“You never had any trouble courting man or woman before.”

And at that, Damen’s eyes lit up. “I know just the thing that he would like!”

Nik sighed, “I really shouldn’t encourage you. But seriously, someone like that is only going to be trouble. And you don’t even know if he likes men.” Nik said.

***

For all of the next day, Laurent didn’t say a word to Damen, or to anyone else. He was uncharacteristically quiet, even by his usual standards. As the day went by, Damen was increasing impatient about fixing things with Laurent. Finally, when everyone else had left for the day, he turned to Laurent. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He blurted.

Laurent’s expression was carefully blank after a flash of startlement and after a pause, he said, “No, why would you think that?” 

“I shouldn’t have said that...l don’t mean to imply that you’re like him.”

Laurent was very tense, and Damen could tell it from the way his shoulders were stiff. “It’s nothing Damen. “ Laurent said, after an awkward pause. “You’re partly right, I have been drawn into playing my uncle’s game and I need to make sure I play it on my terms.” There was a visible movement as Laurent consciously attempted to relax. 

“Are we working on the accounts tonight?” 

“I…” Laurent seemed even more surprised, and tensed again. “Do you want to?”

“Of course.” Damen said. “Wait, you –” a pause “You thought I was mad at you.” 

A brief flash of some emotion crossed Laurent’s face, and seemed caught off guard, “I didn’t think anything.” Laurent said slowly. “And if we’re working on it, we better start before it gets too late. I have been thinking on a different plan.”

But Damen had another idea. If Laurent’s uncle was indeed laundering the money into some place, then it would go through different places, as someone was bound to investigate after a while. It was not a bad idea. They focused on looking for line items that appeared a few times and then disappeared. By the end of the night, they had jotted down a list of companies and accounts that matched the attribute. Even if it yielded nothing, it was progress. 

Damen would have been happy to keep working, but Laurent was the one who suggested to stop for the night. It was the first time that Damen realised Laurent must be tired. He rarely showed any outward signs of tiring, but this time there were little things that gave it away, like stretching his neck in a minute gesture, and raising his fingertips to his temples. 

As they were exiting the office building, Laurent was rounded on by a teenager with dark brown hair and a murderous look in his eyes. 

“You make me wait for you for hours.” He accused. 

Damen took a step forward before he realised, and then turned to look at Laurent who was unbothered despite the onslaught. It was clearly someone Laurent knew. 

“No I didn’t, Nicaise” Laurent said. “And you could have warned me with a few more words you know.”

Nicaise glared. “You got my warning anyway.” 

“Thank you.”

“He’s mad at you. Very mad.” He said. 

Nicaise then rounded on Damen, who was watching the exchange closely, though thoroughly confused. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Nicaise said. 

“Damen is a co-worker, we work together.” Laurent said. 

“I know what co-worker means.” Nicaise rolled his eyes.

Damen tried to raise a hand in greeting, but Nicaise scrunched his eyes a little, looked Damen up and down, and his mouth shaped itself with disapproval. He slouched the way teenagers do to look uncaring and offended and as if even the ground he was standing on had done him wrong.

“He likes you, you know.” Nicaise drawled. 

“Yes, I know.” Laurent replied calmly.

Damen sputtered, feeling a red flush come over him. 

“You’re here to talk, let’s go.” Laurent said to Nicaise, and then, ignoring Damen’s slack-jawed expression, he said, “Good night, Damen.”

***

It was awkward or it was excruciating, or it was just Damen imagining things. Because Laurent acted exactly the same, as if yesterday’s conversation didn’t happen. He grilled Damen on the latest product he was working on and rearranged Damen’s words into a concise mathematical formulation. Laurent wasn’t at his desk when Damen returned from a meeting, so he decided to try the south entrance stairs. Whatever the result, Damen would accept it. 

“I have something for you.” Damen said.

“Insult or information?” Laurent didn’t look up.

“Both, possibly, although it’s not the point.” Damen pulled out a book under a stack of documents he was holding. “I got you a book.” 

“A book.” Laurent looked up, interest brightening his eyes.

“You said before that you like books, and you only have two with you.” Damen sat down beside Laurent.

“You don’t think I have a bookshelf hidden in my wardrobe?” One corner of Laurent’s mouth was curved up in a smile. 

“I may have made an assumption, based on how empty most of your kitchen cabinets were.”

“And what did I tell you about making assumptions?” Laurent arched an eyebrow.

Laurent was pleased, and Damen knew that because of the way he held the book carefully and his long fingers smoothed the cover, fingertips brushing the edges of the pages. He opened the book to a random page before exclaiming in surprise, “Oh poetry!” 

“Hidden in the – ”

“Wait – you’re not going to read it out loud are you?” Damen glanced around him. There were only a handful of others around, but this part of the building was so quiet you could probably hear it if a mouse tip-toed up the stairs.

“Poetry is a form of literature that uses aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language.” Laurent said. 

“Did you just quote a dictionary?” Damen said.

“I wouldn’t need to if you knew the meaning of poetry.” Laurent said. 

"Hidden in the mountains is a lake of mirrored silver water,  
A little plot of inaccessible beauty  
Untouched, unblemished  
Like the bold traveller, who climbs the mountain, and finds the tucked-away jewel,  
I chip at your ice and found you  
And who, would have laid eyes on that sweet reserve, and still remain steady  
In the face of depths unknown  
If there be a chance to explore?”

Laurent’s cheeks were tinged pink, when he looked at Damen, “You’re giving me a book of love poems, Damen?”

“Do you like it?” Damen said, heart pounding despite his efforts to still himself. This was the moment he would find out if they could be anything more, and if not, he would resign himself to being friends. 

Laurent’s eyes were a clear steady blue, the kind you could get lost in. “Are you trying to say something?”

Damen’s throat was very dry, but he managed to say, “I thought you already knew what I was going to say.” 

Flickers of emotion crossed Laurent’s face, and he was very still, very tensed, as if something was warring within him. “It’s…” Laurent said softly. 

They stared at each other. Damen’s pulse was still racing ahead of him, alongside a tenderness that filled his chest. _He’s not letting himself have this_ , he suddenly realised, as his initial insecurity changed into despair. _Look at me_ , he wanted to say. _Don’t look away_.

Damen reached a hand, slowly – very slowly – towards Laurent’s cheek, felt as Laurent’s gaze shifted, and thumbed a gentle stroke across the soft pale skin he found there. Laurent blinked, in a blank sort of surprise, and was very still, even as a flush spread across his face. 

Then he shifted, breaking the contact, and all expression was shuttered away. The half-rise of his left hand fell back, as if in a different world and time it might have reached towards Damen.

“It’s not possible.” Laurent said, clear and steady pristine voice shattering the moment. He sat the book down on the floor between them, and then he was gone.

Watching Laurent leave, and holding himself back was the hardest thing Damen felt like he had done. In that moment, he never wanted anything more – _anything_ – than to be able to go after Laurent, and tell him how much he had come to mean to him. But it would only push him away. That was as much as he knew of Laurent. Damen sat by himself for many moments more, distantly aware of the fact that of all the times he had been turned down, somehow, this one felt different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I wrote a silly poem, don't laugh! Next chapter might have a couple sweet moments, like finally. I keep trying to rush Laurent and Damen, but they just do not want to be rushed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: For a short dream sequence with references to past abuse.

_The tucked-away swimming hole is shaded by red gum trees, and stockpiles its water from a small waterfall hanging off some larger river. Sunlight dapples through the leaves now and again with the moving cloud, making the surface sparkle, and a gentle breeze further perturbs the sparkling, a little chilly when the sun went away, but not to the point of uncomfortable. Laurent is sitting at one of the largest sunny spots by the bank, squinting in the too-bright sunlight and throwing little rocks into the still water._

_“You’re upset with me,” Auguste says, “Just two weeks and I’ll be back.” He leans easily on one hand, and ruffles Laurent’s hair with the other._

_Laurent moves away from the gesture, and glares at his brother. “I am not. And I expect presents.” He throws the stone into the water harder than he intended to._

_“Alright, I’ll buy you an entire bookshop.” Auguste laughs, “The fishies are going to get hurt if you keep on doing that.”_

_“There aren’t any fishes this close to the surface.” Laurent is pretty sure he is right but Auguste says, “How do you know? Why don’t you have a closer look?” Against his better judgement, Laurent stands up and peers in._

_There is a splash and suddenly Laurent is frantically waving his arms and legs through water. He breaks free to the surface and gulps a big mouthful of air, instinctively swiping aside wet hair plastered onto his face. Auguste has his legs dangling over the side and is laughing so hard, that Laurent begins to laugh too._

_“I’m going to pay you back for this.” Laurent promises. “Ten times worse.”_

_“Oh I know.” Auguste winces, thinking of that last prank. “You can plan it while I’m away.”_

Laurent entered his apartment, put down his things by the desk, and then launched into his routine. He had a quick functional shower, then added the day’s clothes into the laundry, which was a fairly frequent necessary chore since he only brought a minimal amount of clothing with him. Once, he had entertained the thought of picking up more of his things at the house his uncle lived in, technically also his house, but quickly gave up the idea. It wasn’t worth the trouble, and potentially dangerous now that he knew Uncle was relentless.

After he set off the laundry, he began sorting through the mail he had collected that day, keeping the ones that were bills, and throwing all the advertisements out. Everything else contained unimportant information that really ought to go in an email. Laurent brought the bills to his desk and paid them, checking his bank balance in the process. All of it was as expected. He then pulled up the list of furniture and household items he had been saving up for, and replanned for the fifth time what he was going to buy this weekend. Nicaise’s appearance had changed things, and meant that he probably should get the furniture to do up Nicaise’s room, buy a dining table, a couch and maybe even a TV.

Laurent thought about Nicaise, who did come to see him on his own accord - a very good sign - and wondered what, if anything had changed for him recently. Was he closer to making the decision to leave Uncle? Was Uncle closer to abandoning Nicaise? They didn’t talk about that. Laurent would have been stupid to broach that topic. These things would come when Nicaise was ready. 

The laundry finally beeped its finish, stirring Laurent out of his thoughts, and he went to hang up his clothes. After that, there was nothing left to do, and the thing that he had been trying not to think about came crashing back in.

Damen. 

How could Laurent think he could handle this? That there were no consequences to playing at the edge of fire. That he could spend all this time with Damen, and still keep himself apart. Laurent knew it was coming, and yet he still botched handling it. The thing was, he _should_ have handled it. He knew how to reject other people, either let them down gently or repel them with sharp words. And yet in front of Damen, he ended up lost for words. ‘It’s not possible’? Even he didn’t think he sounded convincing. 

The problem was that he didn’t expect Damen to come bearing gifts, as if it was some ridiculous courtship, didn’t realise that Damen could look at him the way he did – with certainty – when Laurent felt like he was in between places, in between feelings and – _lost_. His life since his brother died was one mess after another, and Laurent had never quite regained the stability he once had. 

But it was Laurent’s own response that surprised him the most, froze him almost to the point of catatonia. Even now, he can feel echoes of the tingle Damen’s touch sent through his body, can remember exactly how warm Damen’s hand was. He wanted it, wanted Damen’s touch so much, and with it came an anger at himself. The last time he had wanted anything, it had turned out badly. No, it was better not to want things, to be attached to anything. He had made that mistake once and he would not make it again. 

In fact, he reasoned, it was probably just the shared experience, and the fact that Damen helped him when he was at his weakest, that brought this about, gave them both a false illusion of a bond. Damen’s life was simple, Laurent’s complicated, and Laurent couldn’t see a future where things would ever be easy. Sooner or later, it would drive a wedge between them. Even now, he wasn’t sure if Damen would keep helping him with investigating Starburst’s finance. It might be too awkward. Doesn’t matter. Either way was fine, Laurent always did plan to work on it on his own anyway. And anyway, he had the other backup plan. 

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, exerting his iron will to clear his mind, and with it brought the sense of control over himself and his life that he desperately needed at this moment. He got up and made himself a cup of tea – that usually helped – and then went back to his desk, to go through his plans again, to see if he can find a detail that he had missed before, and to make sure there are enough contingencies. 

Laurent was tired, exhausted, but he didn’t want to sleep, and he could no longer ignore the reason why. Over the past two weeks, nightmare after nightmare had invaded his sleep and with it, brought increasing dread each night. It didn’t happen every night Each night he wondered whether the coin would fall one way or the other, and over the past few days, it had rather consistently fallen the bad way.

Confronted with the fact that the nightmares were a direct product of what had happened with Aimeric, Laurent finally admitted to himself how close to the end he had come, how close to being brutally murdered, maybe more. Aimeric was smart, Laurent thought with a sickening feeling, and felt an impotent rage spike in him. He had carefully watched Laurent in the time that he joined the company, and worked out that Laurent preferred to drink from mugs instead of glasses. He probably knew that Laurent prized independence and so would most likely head home on his own. When Laurent thought about it, he didn’t know why he wasn’t on his own and how he had come to ask for Damen’s help. His own actions had surprised even himself, and trying to second-guess what that previous drugged self was thinking quickly became so convoluted that his thoughts wound up in knots. 

What was real and of immediate concern was that fact that the last few nights had been particularly bad, and Laurent at best slept in fits and starts. He dreamt in a haze of images, but always with heart-pounding tension and overwhelming fear.

Last night, it was a slightly different variation: At first, he sees Auguste, his smiling boyish face as he ruffles Laurent’s thirteen year old hair. (Even with an aching sense of loss, that part was a dream welcomed.) It quickly descends to hell – Auguste’s hand is replaced by his uncle’s in a familiar possessive grip. Dark nameless shadows corner him, and many hands clamp down on his throat, pinning him on his back. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe because it hurts. He is young again, with childish yearnings of family, and there is something immensely sickening about it, making him want to physically throw up. Laurent feels his body weakening with every step and there is no escape. His certainty of that is the worst part. Every second feels like eternity… 

Laurent woke up in a cold sweat, half-ready to leap from his bed in flight, and sickened with the tainted image of Auguste. He took deep breaths to calm himself and bring his mind back under control, telling himself over and over that it wasn’t real. After regaining some semblance of sanity, Laurent thought it through as much as he could. The best thing he could do was to confront what had happened and accept that had things turned out differently, he might be dead. He accepted that he was scared of what else his uncle might do, but with it came a steely resolution that he would find a way out of it. He would work harder than before and fight with everything he could to live, and to throw his uncle in jail. And if he failed, it would not be for lack of trying. Auguste wouldn’t be afraid, and so Laurent would face his future with courage. 

Laurent didn’t go in to work the next day. It was not wholly because of Damen. His eyes were now increasingly red-rimmed with each sleepless night and it would start to prompt questions that he didn’t want to answer. Better to work from home on a Friday, and hope the weekend would be enough to recover. Laurent threw himself into work and thought of nothing else but the systems and the database he maintained. It was good. It was making Laurent tired enough to want to sleep. 

At almost 8pm, Arnold rang on the apartment phone. Apparently, Damen’s stubbornness quite rivalled his own. He had left Damen’s text un-replied on his phone during the day, the one that said, “Tell me you’re ok… please?” Damen also called once, but Laurent had let it ring out. Now, he regretted not responding.

Laurent exited the apartment building, and this time, prepared, managed to remain composed, as Damen stared at him with an expression of some complex emotion.

“You’re okay.” He sounded relieved.

“I’m fine.” Laurent said carefully. 

“You look…I…” Damen almost looked pained, “I didn’t mean to push you.” He said, “Can we still be friends?”

“Friends.” Laurent said, “Is that what we are?” That’s not what he meant to say. Laurent couldn’t think, not when Damen was looking at him like this, transparent emotions plain on his face. Damen, worried for him, and probably the only person in the world who would worry about him, enough to come looking. If he lay dead in the gutter somewhere, maybe Damen would come looking. That wasn’t a good thought, Laurent hurriedly shoved that out of his mind. 

Damen’s expression had changed at his words. “Tell me… tell me how I can make this alright for you?” He whispered. _You can’t. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me._ Laurent looked away, carefully keeping all expression off his face. The silence grew with the unanswered question, hung in between the charged air between them. 

“I came to ask if you wanted to work on the accounts. You didn’t return my messages.” Damen eventually said. “I’ll stop bothering you if you don’t want to.”

“You – ” Laurent began without thought - again – before he managed to swallow the rest of the words. 

Damen frowned, “Did you think I would not? I said I would and I’m not about to break my word because you turned me down. Do you think so little of me?”

“I – No.” Laurent said, struggling to maintain his composure. He had to be better prepared next time, clearly. “Well, I suppose you can come up then.” He said, a fraction of his usual dry tones. 

They didn’t get as far as they would have liked, as Laurent was having trouble concentrating on trying to get information on the list of companies that they had identified. He sighed irritably when after half an hour, he still couldn’t find anything out from the registered business numbers. 

“You should get some rest, Laurent.” Damen said, as Laurent pushed away his keyboard in frustration. 

“I don’t want to sleep.” He gritted out. 

“You can’t just keep pushing yourself.” Damen said.

“It’s not that.” Laurent glared at him. 

Of course. Damen had not been paying enough attention, had been distracted by what happened between them. Laurent had seemed fine after the incident, but it must have been traumatic for him. “You haven’t been sleeping well.” He guessed. 

“I haven’t.” Laurent said dully.

“Since when?” Damen pressed. 

Laurent flicked wary eyes towards Damen for a brief moment and he didn’t answer. And Damen knew, that it was from that night. That meant it had been exactly two weeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Laurent said. “It is what it is. It means I need to find something to put my uncle where he belongs before his next move.” There was not a quiver in Laurent’s voice and he sat very straight, graceful as ever, but Damen suddenly found himself thinking that Laurent looked very young.

At some point in the conversation, Damen had unconsciously moved to place his hand over Laurent’s. He realised it with a mini panic that transformed into gratefulness that his touch was accepted this time, unlike the previous. 

Perhaps it was okay, Laurent thought. Damen was here, and holding hands didn’t mean anything more, wasn’t a promise. And if it wasn’t a promise, it couldn’t be broken. Laurent could remove his hand any time he liked. He felt much more in control now, in significant contrast to yesterday, when Damen first touched him. Or maybe he was just more tired now, and all he could think of was how much half of him really wanted to sleep and the other half wouldn’t let him. 

“Talk to me.” Laurent said, “Talk to me about something else.” Damen saw clearly now that Laurent looked exhausted, and had a distinct suspicion that he had been exhausted all this time, but was only now showing it. Laurent had moved his thumb so that it touched the side of Damen’s hand, a miniscule gesture that warmed Damen’s chest disproportionately. He didn’t dare move his hand, in case Laurent decided to pull back. 

“My brother and I aren’t close. He used to hang out with Nik and I when we were kids. Sometimes I hear from my dad about what he’s been up to. He dabbles in one thing after another. The last I heard of him is that he got in a fight with someone at work and quit in a rage. He’s living with my parents again.” Damen said.

“What area does he work in?” 

“Mostly sales. He was in real estate for a bit, and his latest job was in car sales. He does like his cars.”

“Why have you grown apart? ” Laurent asked.

“I don’t know. We share the same dad but different moms. I’ve always looked up to him when I was little. He taught me to climb a tree.” Damen said.

“You climbed trees?” Laurent said, “Or did you break the branches just by sitting on them?”

“Hey!” Damen said, which made Laurent smile.

“You wouldn’t like him.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t like most people.”

“But you like me?” 

“You’re tolerable.” Laurent said, with a breath of laughter.

It was as much Damen dared to push on the topic, but he was glad Laurent seemed at ease enough. Laurent was still letting him hold his hand, and he thought, he would do anything to be allowed this. 

“He’s just – I don’t know – abrasive and acts on impulse.” Damen grew thoughtful. “When I brought Jokaste to a family dinner once, he hit on her right in front of me. I was so mad.” 

“From what you’ve told me, she seems more than able to take care of herself.” Laurent said. 

“Yeah, she put him down so thoroughly that he sulked the rest of the meal.”

“He is younger than you then.” 

“No, older.”

“Well, he sounds like he’s fifteen.”

Damen laughed. “I need to bring you to my family dinner.” Laurent yawned. 

“Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll keep talking until you fall asleep.” Damen said, and when Laurent withdrew his hand abruptly, he added quickly, “Just talking. Nothing… more.” 

There was a moment of indecision before either exhaustion or good sense won out. They turned off their laptops, and then Laurent shut the lights in the living room, and put aside both mugs of tea before leading the way to his bedroom. It felt awkward, this time, deliberately bringing Damen here into his personal space, but Laurent was getting too tired to think. 

There was another moment of awkwardness as Laurent turned aside and got changed into a sleep shirt that went to his knees, while Damen averted his eyes and exited the room with a muttered excuse. 

Eventually, Laurent settled into his single-sized mattress and Damen sat on the carpet beside it, half crouched over him. Laurent lay on his back, and stared at the ceiling. 

“The last time I saw Auguste, I played a prank on him.” Laurent said.

“Why am I not surprised?” Damen smiled. 

Laurent brought out a hand to hit at Damen, who caught it and held it loosely with both hands. That was okay, Laurent breathed, that was nice. He forced himself to relax, instead of tensing up. 

“He was going away for two weeks.” Laurent continued quickly. “And in the middle of the night, I took all his shirts out from his luggage, and sewed my name on to every single one of them. It took all night.” Laurent smiled. 

Damen was smiling too, and shaking his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. There were only a few rare occasions that Laurent had brought up his brother, and Damen wanted to thread gently on this topic. 

“And then?” 

“In hindsight, it wasn’t a very interesting prank.” Laurent said, “but I didn’t have enough time to plan. It made Auguste laugh a lot, but it definitely caught him by surprise.” 

Damen laughed softly. “I can’t imagine what’s an interesting prank for you”. 

Laurent shifted so that he was on his side, withdrawing the hand Damen held back under the covers. He tilted his head slightly, so that he could look into Damen’s face. 

“Tell me what it was like when you were young.” 

Damen smiled wistfully, “It was good. Me and Nik and Kastor were always outside, doing something or other. Kicking a ball, swimming, racing each other, climbing trees. We were outside rain or shine. Nik’s mom would yell at him a lot for bringing mud into the house. My mom wasn’t too fussed. So instead of going home, Nik would come over to my place instead.”

“That sounds nice,” Laurent said sleepily. 

***

Laurent didn’t know when or how he drifted to sleep, but it was still dark when he woke up in a cold sweat, pulse racing and chest squeezed tight in blind anxiety. He immediately sat himself up, burying his head in his hands, repeating to himself that it was a dream and drawing careful deep breaths. Surely it was enough that these things kept coming back to bite him. He thought he had come to terms with his past, understood what had happened, and was moving forward as healthily as possible. Evidently that was not so, he thought with dismay. Each moment felt stretched out and endless, unbearably stifling, before he regained control of himself and the shakiness dissipated. 

That was when he realised that the figure hunched over his bed was Damen. Damen, who had not left, and was now sleeping uncomfortably with half his massive frame hunched over one side of the mattress. How much he envied Damen’s carefreeness, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, as if it wouldn’t come back to bite him. He reached out an unthinking hand to touch Damen’s curls, concentrating on the sensation of how they felt under his fingers, before retracting abruptly when he realised what he was doing. In a moment of startling insight, Laurent found he was glad Damen stayed, hadn’t known before that he wanted him here. That his presence felt surprisingly grounding and easy, a reminder of an ordinary, mundane world, and completely opposite to what he thought it would feel like – out of control and complicated. 

He sighed as he realised he couldn’t let Damen sleep like that. “Wake up,” He whispered softly, and touched a hand to Damen’s cheek, feeling the roughness of a beginning stubble.

“Hmm?” Damen said groggily, his head half rising up and blinking.

Laurent shifted to make space, and then tugged on Damen’s arm, “Get up on the bed.” 

Damen’s bulk filled the rest of the available space, as he easily complied, and at first Laurent gingerly kept himself to the side. He relaxed after a while when Damen seemed to still be asleep. Laurent was okay. Laurent was still feeling in control. With Damen under the covers, it was also extra warm. Too warm in fact. Laurent had to shift some of the covers off his side. 

Damen, half-asleep, had begun to undo the buttons of his shirt. Consciousness arrived as he felt cool hands over his, tugging away at his shirt, coinciding with the moment of understanding that he was in Laurent’s bed, surrounded by Laurent’s scent, and it was Laurent’s hands on his bare chest, and – 

Damen came awake instantly. 

“Laurent – you don’t mind this?” He asked, confused, propping himself up on an elbow. 

“I thought you would go home after I fell asleep. But since you’re here, you might as well sleep properly.” Laurent’s voice was soft and commanding.

Damen shrugged his shirt off himself as Laurent pulled his hands back. 

“Are you alright?” Damen asked in the dark, pulling himself further up and peering at Laurent who had leaned away. “Will you go back to sleep?” He searched Laurent’s profile but found nothing.

“I’m fine, you should go back to sleep too.” 

“I’m…uh... can I take my pants off?” Damen said, “You can say no, I’m okay either way.”

“You may sleep in whatever way you want.” Laurent said cautiously. They were close to each other now, that every time Damen moved to manoeuvre himself, he bumped up against Laurent. The little glimmer of moonlight that came through the window cast shadows against Laurent’s face. Eventually they both settled back in the small amount of space.

“Are you okay?” Damen whispered. There is a thin strip of space between them that he didn’t want to cross while he was still conscious and half-worried that it would cause Laurent to flinch back and leave.

“I will be.” Laurent said. It was too dark to read what expression there was on his face. 

“I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” Damen said. “If you need me to go, I’ll go.”

Maybe it was okay after all, Laurent could have this and still feel in control. It was here and it was comfort and Laurent should make the sensible choice and take it. 

“This.” Laurent said decisively, “I need this.” He moved his arm, closing the little gap, so that his forearm was right against the warm curve of Damen’s shoulder, and then rested his head next to his own arm. 

And Damen had not known it could be like this, chaste but intimate, and personal in this way. All of his previous relationships had featured heavily on sex, and it was the first time he realised it needn’t be. It was enough – it was wonderful – to be here with Laurent, to have Laurent perched around him carefully as a cat, to have Laurent trust him in this. Damen resisted the urge to pull Laurent close against him, and instead did his best to keep very, very, still for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always makes my day to see comments. Thank you so much :)
> 
> This chapter is a bit... long. I don't know what happened on the way lol. But as promised, they are FINALLY making some progress. I think I've edited this into something vaguely of my liking, so I hope you like it too. But feel free to let me know if anything doesn't quite work, and I'll see what I can do. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!


	9. Chapter 9

The first light of dawn was shining in from the window, bathing the room in blue-tinted shapes and shadows. Laurent was awake, had been awake for some time, and though his sleep had been interrupted, the total number of hours he slept was still more than the last three nights added up. It was a relief to feel that his mind was for once, not churning away at thought after thought, and instead was drifting calm as a sailboat in steady winds. 

Laurent sat up when he came awake, and then propped up his pillow so that he could lean back against it. It meant that Damen’s head was placed just inches away from his hip, and the tops of his bare shoulders visible from above the covers. The nearness of Damen evoked both tenderness and apprehension, which Laurent noted and then tossed aside determinedly. He had never been one for regrets. They were both here because he had brought them here, wanted them here. He simply had to be careful navigating the boundaries. It was – _nice_ – to have Damen here, enough to sit beside him. How long Damen would be a part of Laurent’s complicated life was a different thing. In a way, Laurent was glad. If not for the familiarity of working in close proximity with Damen, Laurent would not have gone as far as he had with any man, or anyone at all for that matter. 

Later the birds would start to chirp, and the usual morning noises would intrude, but for now, there was just the sound of Damen’s steady breathing and the occasional shifting of the covers when Laurent rearranged himself one way and another. Laurent breathed quietly, and allowed himself a few more moments of watching Damen sleep, observing the way he slept on his stomach, the way a young child might, with his hands placed close to the pillow, and his impossibly broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. This close to Damen, he could see a beginning morning stubble all across the side of his face, and slight imperfections on his tanned skin that he had never noticed before. 

It wasn’t long before the shadows grew dim and enough light gathered in the room that Laurent might be able to read without squinting his eyes. He reached over Damen to pick up one of the two books he had with him, before realising there were in fact three books piled together by the side. It was the book of poetry. It was good that Damen was still asleep, because Laurent could feel his face getting heated with the memory of the first time he held this book in his hands. He picked it up – a new book was always a good book. Damen began stirring when he was a third of the way through. 

Damen yawned, stretched, and his knee bumped against Laurent’s leg in semi-consciousness. He opened his eyes and found Laurent looking down at him with just a hint of a smile. It took a few moments to remember where he was, and why he was where he was, and the knowledge made him blink several times in surprise even as a flame of heat travelled down his chest. In the light of the day, it seemed even more impossible that he was curled up in Laurent’s bed. 

“One of us has got wits this morning.” Laurent said teasingly, “Looks like it’s not you.” Damen had been staring at Laurent without saying anything for too long. 

“Or are you still dreaming?” Laurent said. Thankfully also, the covers were up to half of Damen’s chest, because the only thing he could think of was how beautiful Laurent looked, poised and casual above him.

“It does feel like it.” Damen said helplessly. 

“There’s water,” Laurent said, still staring right at Damen. 

“What?” Damen said dumbly.

“Beside you.” Laurent continued, a true smile playing on his lips. Then Laurent climbed out of bed, swinging a leg up and over Damen, in a single graceful motion.

“Don’t spill it. It’s not a dream.” Laurent said without looking back. Damen could have sworn there was fondness in that voice. When Damen regained his senses enough to notice the book Laurent had left behind on the bed, his chest felt doubly warm with buzzing pleasure.

***

Later on, Damen talked Laurent into letting him come along on his errands. At first, Laurent claimed it was a boring errand, that he simply had to buy some things. But all through breakfast, a number of little things piqued his curiosity. It was the way Laurent sidestepped some of his questions, and seemed to be thrumming with either excitement or nervousness. It only made Damen worry.

“Alright. If I let you come, I don’t want to hear any more questions.” Laurent finally said. “Just don’t interfere.” He warned. 

“Even if you’re about to do something dangerous?” 

“I’m not about to do anything dangerous.” Laurent rolled his eyes. “But if I was, then yes,” He said, infuriatingly, “precisely so.” Damen opened his mouth at that, aware that Laurent sometimes spoke to bait him, but Laurent put a finger against his lips and shot him a look that forbade any further arguments. It wasn’t that Damen was particularly prone to obey Laurent, it was more that the feel of Laurent’s hand against his lips had put his brain into some kind of freeze. 

It took a bit longer to sort out the organising. Damen had a shower at Laurent’s apartment, and then Laurent stopped by Damen’s apartment so he could get a fresh change of clothes before they set off. 

***

It turned out to be the furthest thing from boring, and nothing Damen quite imagined. 

The first shop they entered was one of those large mass-produced furniture stores. It was just slightly before noon and already had a number of patrons browsing the floor. Several bored shop attendants hovered in strategic locations, looking around once in a while, and offering assistance at the first opportunity. 

“You’re buying furniture?” Damen asked, perplexed. “That’s it?”

“Yes and no. Not yet.” Laurent said, an impish light dancing in his eyes.

At first, Laurent simply led the way, sitting on one couch after another, running his palm over the fabric, then he wandered over to the dining tables, glancing at their labels. 

Damen followed, keeping an eye on their surroundings, which was now turning into an automatic habit every time he was with Laurent. He noticed that Laurent did the same, casually glancing around and avoiding crowds. 

Damen’s other habit was to check his mobile every now and then, and especially with every _ding_ of a notification he received. It was ingrained in him to watch what the electricity market was doing, scan through new market notices, and keep abreast of any major political, social or environmental event that might influence the market. Nothing important occurred. Nothing was broken. He did note with some concern that the temperature forecast for next week had gone up again, but it was still within a typical hot day range.

“It’s going to be 41 next week instead.” Damen said aloud. 

Laurent turned back to look at him, “Are you worried?”

“Not yet.” Damen shrugged. “The weather forecast tends to be pretty accurate one week ahead, so hopefully it won’t change anymore.”

“We worked on that.” Laurent smiled. “Jord and I went over that data over and over ever since we started working on the summer strategy.”

“Yes,” Damen said, “I remember. I was already impressed with everything you’ve done then. Everyone is.” 

Laurent paused in his browsing to look back at Damen with a sly grin, “Doesn’t take that much to impress you, I’m afraid.” Then he added, “One just has to have the right genetics to get blond hair.”

“I don’t –” Damen said, and then stopped to think, “How did you know that?” Damen felt himself flush and a distinct suspicion entered his thoughts, one that made him want to burrow deep into the earth. He had never asked Laurent how he knew. Or how Nicaise knew.

“You cannot guess?” 

“Nik and you don’t talk.” Damen protested. 

“Jord and I do.” _Oh._ That meant Laurent had always known. 

“I’m going to have a word with Nik. Who’s so going to have a word with Jord,” Damen grumbled to himself.

Something else nagged at Damen, he hurried to catch up with Laurent who walked ahead of him. “It isn’t just because of that. You know that, right?” Damen said nervously.

There was a pause, and Laurent looked right at him and said, “Yeah, yeah I do.” 

Damen couldn’t tell if Laurent meant it at all. It was a troubling thought. He was about to say more when Laurent changed the topic. 

“What do you think of these?” He gestured at the furniture.

Damen shrugged, “I’m not too fussed. They all look fine to me. A table is a table, as long as it works.” 

“Remind me never to go shopping with you.” There is a beginning of a small smile on Laurent’s face.

“I just like simple things, tables should be strong and sturdy. That’s it.” Damen said.

“I take it you have a titantium dining table?” An eyebrow arched in amusement.

“No of course not –” Damen began, and then quickly conceded, “Okay, I see your point. I’ve never thought about it. When I moved in, I bought a set of furniture from some shop. I think they were made of oak, but it could easily be a some other wood.”

“Oak? You do know your quality furniture then.” Laurent rolled his eyes. “Or more likely, I would guess that you bought whatever was in the mid-range price.”

Damen had to admit that was probably what he did. He gave no more thought to it than that he needed furniture. Come to think of it, it might have been Nik who eventually helped him to choose. All Damen had to do was hand over his credit card.

Having circled around the store almost twice now, Laurent, with a familiar glint in his eyes, steered Damen towards one of the shop attendants. Later, Damen would wonder how Laurent knew to pick out the floor manager, but in the moment he could only gape, as Laurent said to the man, “I want that couch,” - he pointed - “that dining table set”, - he pointed - “the single bed, two of those bedside tables, and the desk beside it. I don’t really care for what I buy,” – he cast a sideways glance at Damen – “some might say a table is a table, as long as it works. But would you like to tell me why I shouldn’t buy them from Hensley’s on the other side of the street?” 

Damen watched as Laurent bargained for an almost thirty percent discount on the items, and reduced the poor manager to defending the quality of his furniture. It was entirely unfamiliar to Damen, who was no stranger to making good deals, after all that was his job, but it definitely did not extend to buying furniture, or any other item for that matter. If Damen wanted something, he would outright buy it, without going to all that trouble. Or, if he saw a good deal, he would happily buy it too. Laurent was mesmerising and utterly impressive, and Damen did not think things could unfold in a more surprising way. 

Which was why he was practically incredulous, when after all that effort, Laurent turned his nose up, and said he was going to buy it from Hensley’s after all, leaving a very confused and stricken salesman staring after them. 

“Why didn’t you buy it?!” Damen asked as they walked out, noting vaguely that Laurent did not, in fact, try to cross the street to get to Hensley’s Furniture.

“Well,” Laurent smiled triumphantly. “That was just for practice.” Laurent met his eyes for a brief moment and they were shining a brilliant blue. 

“ _What?_ ” 

“I don’t think I can come back to this store any time soon though.” Laurent added, sounding somewhat dismayed. 

“That’s what you’ve been planning?” 

“Please, that’s not half of what I was planning.” Laurent retorted. There was no bite to it. Laurent was still brimming from the win. 

After a moment, Laurent looked briefly pensive. “It’s easy when there aren’t any stakes involved.”

The shop that Laurent really wanted to spend his money at was a small boutique shop, with almost no customers inside at all. There were only a small sample of their furniture in the space, but they were all made of beautiful solid timber with little ornate touches. The shop lady sat at the counter, an accounting book – a real book, not just a computer - in front of her, wrapped in rich red and gold shawl around her shoulders, and thick glasses sitting on her nose. 

Laurent went straight up to her, and recited the list of items he wanted to buy, before he added casually, “Angel and Co. is offering me a thirty percent discount.” 

“That’s because they know their stuff is shit.” She spat out.

“I agree.” Laurent said coolly. “This -“ Laurent laid a hand on the nearest item, a beautiful desk with drawers - “is made of black walnut wood, known for its durability and lighter than some of the other hardwoods. The color is a combination of deep and vibrant red-browns, warmer than others of the same wood.”

She tugged her glasses adjusting them and peered at Laurent over the top. Renewed interest shone in her eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know, young man.” 

Lauent didn’t blink. “Well, the quality is obvious. It’s the design that stands it apart.” He said, “It’s interesting… but not overwhelming.” Looking down towards the desk, almost admiringly, he continued, “They aren’t loud show pieces, but instead achieve elegance through the tone and overall simplicity –” a pause “ –and a touch of quirkiness. It is ever so subtly unpredictable and whimsical.” 

Damen could see the moment she was won over. “You understand...” She whispered, a wonder in her voice. “It’s what we stand for. My late husband and I designed these. What you said… that’s exactly who he was.”

Laurent tore his eyes away from his inspection of the beautiful wood under his fingers, and looked straight at her. “Alfred said he had three things in his philosophy. Quality, simplicity, and subtlety.”

Her expression turned into one of utter amazement, “How do you know that?” She said. “He’s been gone for 6 years now.”

It was the first time during the encounter that Laurent allowed a smile to show. It made his features look softer, almost shy, “I was twelve when I first came here.”

“He manned this shop then,” Her eyes trailed off, “I oversaw the workshop. It’s so different now, not having him here. You wouldn’t understand…”

“I do…” Laurent swallowed, “understand. The first year is the hardest. You keep looking round the corner and expect him to be there. Everything you do jars you, because it used to be with him. Then it gets better, but you never fully get over it. Because sometimes, something will happen, some small miniscule thing that you didn’t think would hurt you, and it does.” Laurent paused, “Then it feels like you lost your world again.” He whispered.

They stared at each other, as understanding passed between them before she nodded almost absent-mindedly.

“I’ll give you twenty percent off. He would have done that.” She said. 

“Thank you.” Laurent said with a soft smile, exchanging a glance with Damen, who badly wanted to hold his hand, or put an arm around him, but there was Laurent, standing straight as ever, looking as resolute as he always did. He found himself wondering if there was anyone there for Laurent when he brother died.

After they settled on the price, they discussed the logistics of organising the delivery – Monday – and then Laurent paid and that was it. 

“Right. That is now sorted.” Laurent said, as they walked out the shop and along the street towards Laurent’s car. Damen could see a beginning brightness in his eyes, despite his neutral and causal tone. 

“You had it all planned.” Damen said, warmth unfurling in his stomach, as they walked. Laurent was meticulous and unpredictable, but seeing it in person was something else. 

“It worked out my way, yes.” Laurent sounded pleased. “Shall I be honest? I thought the most I would get would be five percent off, and it would leave my bank account in double digits.” 

“So who’s staying with you?” Damen asked.

“What?” Laurent said without missing a beat.

“I pay attention sometimes, you know.” Damen said. “You’re buying furniture for your spare room.”

“Are you jealous?” Laurent replied, teasingly, still in a good mood. 

“You’re changing the subject.” Damen said it as a statement. He was learning to read Laurent’s ways. 

“But yes, yes I am.” Damen said this warmly, and half-jokingly, with an intensity cloaking his words that had Laurent’s face heating. 

Laurent looked away instead. “No one. Not yet.”

Later on, in the car, as Laurent was driving, it suddenly occurred to Damen, “Did you plan this since you were ten?”

“Not really.” 

“But… you kept it in the back of your mind?” Damen guessed.

Laurent seemed willing to keep talking, “Auguste and I used to roam these streets. The university is just a two blocks away. He talked to everyone in this area, got along with everyone. He used to chat with Alfred every now and then, promised him when he came into his own he would buy furniture from him.” Laurent paused as he turned a corner, “He never got a chance to buy it. But my finances have never been at their best, there was never a good time for me. ”

“And you bought it anyway. What changed?” Damen asked. 

“Well I - I realise I can’t take my money to the grave.” Laurent said carefully, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t say that!” Damen exclaimed. 

“Well, in a way. I just – it’s what I always wanted.” Laurent looked straight ahead, “And I want to live my life the way I would, if I didn’t have the… _complications._ ” 

_Complications_. The unfairness of it frustrated Damen to no end. He could feel himself getting worked up about it. He wished there was something more he could do for Laurent. Hell, he wished he could just wish away the problems. He knew he would help Laurent as much as he could, but would that be enough? Damen was silent for too long, and he felt Laurent’s fingertips against his arm, ghosting there for a brief moment, and then was gone. 

The rest of the drive was spent in a companionable silence, if a little more depressing than the occasion warranted. They were arriving at Damen’s apartment, and Laurent parked at the side. Another thought had come to Damen during the drive, and he had always been a person who threw caution to the wind. 

“You said you want to live your life the way you always wanted.” He began. “What about us?”

Damen could see Laurent visibly tense. Every part of him was still, every muscle in his neck taut. He hadn’t moved, yet he looked poised to take flight. 

“What about us,” Laurent said it, calmly and carefully, but it was the voice of someone who was preparing to fight. 

If Laurent wouldn’t talk about it, then Damen will. 

“I know you want this.” Damen whispered. “Live your life the way you want, together with me.” Damen could hear the plea in his voice. 

For a moment, Laurent looked struck, and then it was gone. The shield was back up and his blue eyes were hard. 

“That is different.” He said. “I’ll see you on Monday.” 

Damen took the dismissal for what it was. “I’ll see you soon.” He said, not able to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaay :) I am back to being 1-2 chapters ahead. And I have exciting things planned!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: For an exposition on suicidal thoughts. No actual suicide here.

The mark of a good team was in the way they worked seamlessly, contributing their varied skills as parts of a whole to achieve a single objective. It was the genuine respect they had for each other, where the interconnecting relationships that were woven between them made up a living breathing entity of its own. It was in the way they not only continued to perform under pressure, but in fact thrived in stressful situations. 

The last stretch before Christmas turned out to be one of the busiest, most stressful weeks at Lionsheart, although it was definitely not _just_ limited to Lionsheart. It was all of the energy industry, it was all of the state’s emergency service, and it was every country fire authority volunteer. 

Initial weather forecasts predicted two days of hot weather, not unusual for December, but that changed over the weekend, and changed again as the week began. It was now forecasted to be a three-day heatwave on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Daytime temperatures were primed to hit 46 degrees on the last day, which if turned out to be correct, would break the December record for the state. 

The energy industry, unlike everyone else, had the unique perspective of greeting the week with a kind of excitement mixed with fear – it was the thrill of playing the energy market game. You’ve lined up your bets. You’ve analysed the hell out of all available information. Now, all you can do is wait to see what cards have been dealt to you. Up for grabs is an outcome that plays to your specific strategy, providing the earnings you’ve been waiting for all year, balanced precariously by an ever looming risk of losing the same amount. 

Makedon turned up early on Monday, bearing coffees for the rest of the team, as if they were ammunition for the day, a gesture that could easily have been meaningless if not for two things: One, that he had been doing that at least once a week all year round and not just this occasion, and two, he handled the situation with calm and focus, directing the team’s efforts towards clearly outlined goals. It was necessary and the mark of a good trader, to not let emotions overrule at a time where their decisions have high stakes. The same could not be said of the CEO, who panicked at the first sight of high forecast prices, and wanted to know why they didn’t see this coming. Makedon handled _that_ with barely concealed annoyance. 

To all the news-seekers who turned up at their office to share in the excitement, (and this week induced a higher than usual traffic) Damen explained that despite the hot weather driving an increase in electricity demand, it was actually advantageous that it was close to the end of the year with many offices starting to shut down and with schools already being shut. The only complication at the moment was that of the state’s largest solar farm at Kinley still being under maintenance. Since electricity can’t be stored (or at least there weren’t enough batteries), supply and demand had to be matched in real time. If Kinley stayed out of action all week, it would definitely cause a dent in the electricity supply, which would force the regulator to call on emergency reserves, which would in turn rocket up the spot price. But if Kinley were to come back into play on Wednesday, as currently planned, then the risk across the rest of the week would disappear in a flash.

The decision that was agonised through all of Monday and Tuesday was whether the firm ought to buy additional hedges. Damen watched the market like a hawk. Laurent and Jord sat closeted together to determine bounds for the week’s electricity demand based on historical precedents. Pallas followed up with his contacts – that he had spent most of the year building a relationship with – to find out if anything was occurring out of schedule. In the other office, Finance forecasted and re-forecasted cashflow in every way considerable. Every megawatt of electricity was going to count if the market went to pieces. 

Wednesday arrived.

And disappointingly, Kinley did not come on, citing further necessary maintenance and leaving precious megawatts out of the system. Temperatures reached a not-unusual 40 degrees, but the highly correlated prices were only slightly elevated. It wasn’t unusual, as usually it would be the last day of a heatwave that would be the more risky day. That was when the persistent heat would have had consumers start switching on air-conditioners and bumping up the state’s total demand. Electricity retailers without sufficient financial backing have folded from situations like that, and small retailers, especially, did not have very good odds in that regard. 

Thursday was, however, unexpectedly good. 

While strong winds intensified bushfires, it also added to the wind generation, helping to provide additional supply into the market. Damen and Makedon now wanted to discuss whether it was worth selling the investment products they currently owned to other players in the market who got twitchy for Friday, the third day of the heatwave. But the temperature forecast for Friday went up again, to a ridiculous 47 degrees, making them twitchy themselves, so they kept their hedges instead. 

Damen did not have much of a chance to talk to Laurent, as all of the team was busy and working late into the evening, and especially Damen, who kept an eye on the market throughout, trying to work out what the big players in the market were doing. They had chatted little since the weekend, as the office was not the most conducive environment with a constant clamour of noise and they were each respectively busy buried to the nose in work. Just the day prior, when Damen found a brief private moment with Laurent, he broached the awkward conversation of offering his company for the night but Laurent only politely thanked him and said it wasn’t necessary. 

At about 10pm on Thursday night, Damen decided to call Laurent.

“Damen,” Laurent answered, only after a few rings. It was a rare thing to hear Laurent say his name. It made Damen’s heart skip a beat.

“Hi,” Damen said, “I hope I’m not interrupting your sleep. I wanted to ask how you are. I feel like we haven’t talked.” 

There was a pause. Did Laurent smile? “No, I haven’t gone to bed yet. The question should be how are you? Of all of us, you’re under the most pressure this week.” Laurent’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. 

Damen released the breath he felt like he had been holding in all day, “Yeah, I’m worried, but I know rationally that it’s the best position we’ve got. It’s just that if all three of our assets choose to fail now, of all days, then we could be in big trouble. It’s a small chance, but it could still happen.” 

“That is a small risk, that everyone accepts, Damen. They are well aware of the risk of a number of simultaneous bad events occurring. We’re a startup after all, there is no profit without risks.” 

“Yes,” Damen could not keep the strain out of his voice, “But if it does happen, no one will remember that, it will be on my reputation as the trader that made a two million dollar loss. Mine and Makedon.” Damen shook his head to himself, “We don’t have two million to lose…” 

“But if all goes well,” Laurent said slowly, “you would be the trader that saved the business two million dollars that would have been otherwise spent on hedging to keep us safe.”

“No one will remember that.” Damen replied, surprised that Laurent had understood that much.

“Well, they should.” Laurent said pointedly. “I remember you talked about this months ago, you were more sure of the strategy then.”

“Yeah,” Damen said, “Yeah I was.” 

“Did anything change from then?” 

“Not really.”

“Then you have your answer.” Laurent said. 

Damen breathed again, somewhat easier now. He was suddenly aware he had actually been quite stressed through the past few days. “Yeah, yeah I think so.” Damen suddenly realised he had called Laurent to ask after him but instead he had spent the whole time talking about his worries. 

“Enough about me,” Damen said, “How are you doing?” 

“A bit better.” The answer came too quick, as if in defense.

“Have you been sleeping?”

There was a careful pause. Laurent said, “I’m better.” 

“What does better mean?” Damen pressed. “No nevermind, don’t answer that. What can I do for you? I can come over if you like.” 

“No it’s fine,” Laurent replied quickly, and Damen couldn’t help a disappointment that rose in him. “It’s just… something I need to do on my own.” Laurent paused, “It already helps… to talk about other things. To have other things to do.”

“You know I’m here for you.” Damen said quietly. 

Silence on the line. And then, “Go to sleep, Damen.” There was definitely a smile there. 

***

Friday morning began with a temperature in the mid-30s, a hot morning trailing after a sweltering overnight. On the other side of the city, Aimeric slept poorly and it wasn’t because of the heat. Idly, he wondered if he should have taken Laurent’s advice and gone overseas. It had all been too hard to think then. Instead, he had taken a leaf from Laurent’s book, and rented a high security apartment unit. 

He spent his days playing a variety of video games, watching TV, ordering takeout (that he made sure to eat cautiously in public). Operating like clockwork, and with barely any real interest, he moved from one task to another. Lately, it had become harder and harder to concentrate on anything, especially cooped up in the apartment by himself, so he had taken to sitting in the outdoor area within the apartment complex. Originally meant to be a sheltered patio area, it was now being renovated to be a display gallery area, complete with glass windows and an indoor garden. At the moment, apart from the covered kitchen area, it was a mess of broken tiling, scrapped walls and abandoned scaffolding. Several tradesmen had come through, performing one task or another, but that had dwindled down to just one man with the holiday season creeping up. The remaining tradesman looked about early-thirties, with untamed curly hair that went past his ears and a scruffy beard adorning his chin. He was obviously strong from the way he carried the equipment with ease, but went about his job in a rather contemplative and serious way, the latter traits standing him out from the others. He didn’t even have one of those portable radios churning out the currently popular tunes that the others had. 

Once or twice the man apologised for the noise of the tools, though Aimeric had silently waved him off. Aimeric didn’t mind it, even preferred it. The unpleasant buzzing of the metal saw, the loud plonk of wooden planks being put down none too gently on the floor, and the smell of paint from one of the tubs in the corner gave him something to focus on. Sometimes, he watched and wondered what it would be like if he had the skills to do this sort of honest manual work, if his family had more humble beginnings. Then maybe his life would be different. 

Then maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did to Laurent.

“You live here?” A voice broke Aimeric out of his thoughts. The tradesman’s work had taken him near the kitchen area, and he spoke casually to him. 

“Yes.” Aimeric said, with startled glance. _Would this be the one sent to take my life?_ Aimeric cast a glance at the security guard in the other room, separated only by a glass panel and likely within hearing distance.

The man grinned. “Not the best place in the block to be. Going to get bit more rowdy.”

“No, it’s alright.” Aimeric replied quietly. The man was okay after all, Aimeric realised, and couldn’t work out if he was relieved or disappointed.

Later, he came and pulled out a chair at the only table in the room, where Aimeric had been seated, doing absolutely nothing all morning. 

“Can I sit here? Or you rich people don’t like us sitting with you?” The man said.

Aimeric was again startled out of his thoughts, “I would swop places with you in a heartbeat.” He said honestly, and then ignored the strange look the man gave him, choosing to stare out instead, into the garden grounds made bright by the unrelenting sun. Once he would have conversed easily with strangers, but he couldn’t summon to will now, couldn’t snap out of the brooding mood he had been. It felt like things would never be right again. 

ignoring Aimeric’s attempts not to converse, the man pressed, “So what are you doing here?” 

Indeed. What was he doing here? Where had his life gone wrong, and how did he end up here? When did it become okay to hurt other people? It was a damn good question and the stranger didn’t even know it. Aimeric wanted to laugh, but instead what came out were the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind over many weeks shaped into words. Actual, concrete-feeling words. 

“Trying to decide if I deserve to live.” 

Aimeric heard a breath sucked in. So what? He didn’t care what some stranger would think of him. None of it mattered. He had always been the unwanted accidental child in his family. No one would miss him. The only person that he loved hadn’t loved him at all. And he had been a fool to believe it. The bitter taste in his mouth was the intense hate he felt for himself, that even at this time he missed him. Missed him every day and every night. He was a sick, horrible person who deserved to die. And maybe, maybe then the pain would stop. 

***

“Temperature for today is still sitting at 47 degrees.” Jord announced late morning. 

“I saw that,” Damen frowned. Both Makedon and Damen were in between phone calls, trying to get as much information as they could. “Do you think it’s real?”

“This forecast provider does tend to be conservative in the higher direction though.” Jord called out, which prompted a nod from Makedon.

“What’s happening?” Pallas asked, a constant question that had been repeated all week. Technically he wasn’t directly involved in market operations but he knew enough by now to understand its impact on the business. 

“Touch and go if Kinley isn’t back.” Damen sounded worried. Makedon was away talking to the CFO about cash requirements, while Vannes, Jord and Laurent all paid attention to this conversation. Damen explained a number of details he had been watching and ended off with “But I think Kinley will come through today, even if not operating at full capacity. So most likely looking ok.”

“We live and die by these prices, for good or for worse.” Vannes announced dramatically. 

The CEO dropped by several times, only to have either Makedon or Damen repeat the same information, thoroughly reassuring him. After all, the last thing they wanted to add to their workload was to handle someone else panicking in the office. At around noon, everyone relaxed when Makedon announced that Kinley, true to intended, had pulled through. There were a few half hours of high prices, but not at the very top. It was good. They were still set on making money, depending on the retail book outcome. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when estimated numbers by Laurent showed that at best they would make some money and at worse they would break even. All in all, it was a good outcome for a very hot day.

At the end of the day, another piece of good news came through from one very excited CEO who almost skidded into their office in his rush. Provided they hadn’t done badly on the last few days – and they would only find out next week - the sale was very likely to proceed.

“Provided we don’t fuck up the rest of this summer.” Vannes said under her breath, while Makedon shot her a discrete warning glance. She smiled very sweetly while the CEO went on about the forthcoming sale plans. Apparently, they might share an office with a portion of the parent company.

Finally at 5pm, Makedon declared them done for the week. “We live for another day!” He bellowed. He too could be dramatic when he wanted to. Then he ushered the team off to the nearest pub, told them they had done their best and the outcome would be what it would be. Exhausted from both the additional work and the sustained heightened emotion, no one protested. 

It was just their team plus Nik, a regular face in their office now that it was open knowledge that he and Jord were dating. By nature of the separate offices, the company had divided itself into two distinct cliques, all except Nik who belonged in both. Damen thought Laurent would refuse to come, but Laurent trotted off together with them, and even seemed relaxed. With the cool change well on its way, the air outside was perfectly cool and breezy.

Laurent entered the pub first, and subtly settled himself at the outdoor seating area of the pub, leaving no discussion as to the choice of seating. Nik, after some private words to Jord, stayed behind, while the rest trudged off to secure drinks.

Watching Laurent with his beautiful porcelain features always arranged in a cool arrogant expression, Nik felt more and more irritated. He had heard enough from Damen by now to see it clearly for what it is – that Laurent was simply toying with Damen who was too trusting to see it.

“Well, if you have something to say to me, spit it out.” Laurent said lazily. 

Taking the opportunity for what it was, Nik said, “Fine. Whatever you’re doing to Damen, you need to stop that.” He hissed. “Stop _stringing_ Damen along.” 

“I need to?” Laurent asked innocently, leaning on the armrest in an insouciant posture. “And what are you going to do about that?” He said.

“I – ” Nik could feel a ball of fury growing in him. Laurent was obviously a snake and he all but admitted it.

Before Nik could say more, Damen had returned, setting down two glasses at the table. He took one look between him and Laurent and immediately asked, “Are you alright, Laurent?”

To which, Nik, immediately outraged, tossed back, “You’re asking him?!” 

Damen had the grace to look embarrassed and cast a look towards the interior of the pub to watch the others. Laurent was now watching him with a softly superior smile, and Nik had an unbearable urge to wipe that smirk off his pretty face. It was too bad Damen would be thoroughly mad at him for that.

Then, Laurent, still with that supreme smile, arched one eye brow at Nik, and at the precise moment when Damen turned his face back towards them both, pressed his lips briefly against Damen’s, and then said to Nik, “Alright, I’ll just be off now.” 

Shock coursing through his system, Nik saw that Damen looked dazed in wonder, touching a finger to his parted lips. 

“He kissed me.” Damen said.

Nik rolled his eyes and did his best not to raise his voice at Damen. He failed. “That man is an insufferable piece of shit. He did that on purpose!”

Damen, very obviously replaying on repeat the memory of the kiss, was too dumbstruck to hear anything Nik said. Nik groaned internally.

“Yes he did, he _kissed_ me, Nik.” Damen said again, a foolish smile plastered all over his face. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, and I swear I’m not going to clean up your mess if this goes south.” Nik glared. Nothing he was going to say would persuade Damen. That was Damen after all, an unstoppable force of nature when he was set on a course. 

“Oh shit. I got to go after him. Have my beer!” Said Damen, before he too got up and left. 

***

Damen found Laurent at the bus stop leaning against the silver rails, watching his approach with a feigned casualness. There was a familiar tension in the way he stood, from the way his hand gripped the railing to the taut line of his neck. 

He meant to ask Laurent what happened with Nik, but the words that came out were, “That wasn’t a real kiss.” 

“I was just messing with Nik.” Laurent said guardedly. 

Damen could feel himself smile, and he shook his head slightly, then rested his eyes warmly on Laurent, “You never do anything you don’t want to do.” 

Laurent’s eyes bore in his. “You think you know me, do you?” 

Damen took the half step that brought him into Laurent’s space, closer than he usually would stand. Laurent in turn tensed even further, but didn’t move away. Complex emotions skittered across his face.

“I know I do.” Damen replied.

“Then maybe you should show me a real kiss then.” He whispered. 

Damen forgot about the other people standing around the bus stop, forgot about everything he was thinking about before, except Laurent. He took yet another half step, even closer to Laurent, who miraculously did not back away, and placed both of his hands on either side of Laurent’s face. He pressed his lips gently against Laurent’s forehead first, before moving lower and meeting his lips. He wanted to be tender, wanted to treat Laurent like the precious jewel that he was, so he went slow, nudging at Laurent’s lips and tasting the coolness he found there. Laurent, initially alternating between being very still and almost pulling away, had begun to respond to him, even once seeking out his lips when Damen withdrew ever so slightly. It was nothing like Damen had experienced, his body shuddering in utmost delight at being allowed this, at what he wanted for so long. 

When they broke apart, Damen moved his hands down, trailing down Laurent’s shoulders before they settled around his elbows and but couldn’t bear to step away. He whispered, “You kiss me like you’re still thinking about it. With half a foot out the door... I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“Is that a problem?” Laurent breathed, slightly pink in his cheeks.

“No... I just want this to be good for you...” Damen said.

“It is...” There was something very real and vulnerable in Laurent’s expression, and there was a visible struggle as he formed the words, “I’m just still... coming to terms.” 

“Okay,” Damen folded his arms around Laurent and rested his lips against Laurent’s forehead, “As long as you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the reference to the title didn’t go missed. In fact, this story was right from the beginning set up to follow several ‘Coming to Terms’ storylines. While Laurent’s character development is one of the main ones, I still haven’t figured out how much the others will end up featuring. Safe to say, there is definitely more than one meaning to the title.
> 
> Secondly, I _am_ sorry for dumping an electricity market lecture in this. If somehow, miraculously, I’ve managed to keep your interest, then know that this is fairly close to the real dynamics of the electricity market, albeit a bit dramatised, with the exception that Kinley probably needs to be a base load generator (gas/coal etc.), not a solar farm, to cause a impact in the market. Because the peak hours of electricity demand is usually after solar hours, that’s the time you need all generators available to be switched on an extra hot day. I only called it solar farm because hey I like supporting renewable energy.
> 
> Next chapter, entirely written, is tender loving fluff and smut. It’s about time!
> 
> As always, thank you for sticking with me and this fic. xx


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this chapter is it. It's been a while coming. So.... I’ll just say hi over here discretely, and I’ll see you all next chapter. x

The restaurant they were at was a little homey Italian place, tucked away at the edge of the city centre. It had been crowded when they arrived, but since its range of alcohol was fairly limited, most of the Friday night diners had left to seek out greener pastures after a quick dinner. It’s interior decoration was slightly eclectic, with each of the walls covered in rectangular rustic-looking wooden signboards stamped with black ink, the sort that might hang over a shop in the 20’s. Tiled together from floor to ceiling to form some sort of puzzle board, each one might read something like, “Coulter and Co.”, or “Donavan’s Removal”, or “FICTION” with a picture of a half opened book. It was the sort of quirky design that Laurent favoured, that Damen could not help noticing, the same way he noticed everything about Laurent. 

“So, when did you decide?” Damen’s voice was rich and warm beside Laurent’s ear, his very breath a light tickle on Laurent’s cheek, and it enveloped Laurent in a hyper sensation that blocked everything else out. Or maybe it was because their shoulders were touching, and one of his hands was enclosed in both of Damen’s large hands. For a moment, Laurent simply concentrated on the feel of Damen’s calloused palm going over and over the back of his hand. It was distracting, and he sure as hell was going to move his hand away. In a minute, maybe. 

Keeping a tight control on his breathing, Laurent replied, “Last weekend,” feeling a betraying heat creep up his face. “If you must know.” He added, as imperiously as he could. “Do we have to talk about this?” 

Damen, of course, wouldn’t let it go. He can’t stop smiling either. “And when were you going to tell me?”

“I… was looking for the right opportunity.” Laurent said, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards unthinkingly.

“And… Nik provided one,” Damen guessed shrewdly. “I suppose I should thank him then.” 

Laurent shoulders were shaking as he bent his head – laughing, Damen realised – as he shook his own head in admonishment, but couldn’t find it in himself to really feel bad about Nik. 

“You should have seen his face.” Laurent said.

“You should have seen mine!” said Damen.

“I don’t need to see yours.” 

“Why? Because you know how happy you make me?” 

Of all things, this was the one that made Laurent blush deeply, a pretty pink diffusing across his cheeks. Damen loved it, loved the way he, and only he saw this side of Laurent. 

“You –” Laurent said, gazing at him levelly, with every ounce of his steady blue eyes.

“What?” Damen smiled widely. 

“You can wipe that smug expression off your face, or I’m leaving.”

At some point their faces had been inching closer together. “Don’t leave, I know just the thing that would do it.” Damen whispered, his gaze falling towards Laurent’s lips. He closed the gap to capture Laurent’s mouth, tasting the spice and chocolate from their half-eaten dessert left abandoned on the table. And Laurent, parting his lips against him, kissed him back seriously, as if each sensation was something to be considered and examined. 

It was too soon that the kiss was ending, that Laurent was pulling back and turning away. He said, “Now, are you going to help with this Christmas pudding, or do I have to do all the work?”

Damen wouldn’t let go of Laurent’s hand, so they each ate with a fork on either side of the plate. 

“Speaking of which, what are you doing for Christmas?” Damen asked. 

For a moment, Laurent looked blank, the implication of family, or lack there of, clear between them. Then he said, “Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

Damen put down his fork, so he could take Laurent’s hand within both his hands. 

“And before you say any more, I don’t really want to go to _anyone’s_ Christmas party. I’m definitely not ready for _that_.” Laurent added.

“I’m not doing anything either.” Damen said quickly, which prompted a brief flash of surprise from Laurent before it was gone.

“Oh.” He said, “I thought…”

“My dad works in the police and my mom manages St Albert’s Hospital. It’s peak period for them, especially with the end of the year. My family, for as long as I’ve had them, has never celebrated Christmas. It’s just usually a dinner early in the month. That’s it. We don’t even do it every year.”

“Oh.” Laurent said.

“So…” Damen began, “I was wondering, if you would spend Christmas with me.”

Oh.” Laurent said.

“Is that a yes?” 

“Damen, we see each other five days a week, and on one of the few 3-day work weeks, you want to hang out too?”

“I would see you seven days a week, if I could.” Damen declared. 

“You’re ridiculous, and you’re a buffoon. We’ll get sick of each other this way.” Laurent said smiling, without any conviction himself.

“Never.” Said Damen.

They sat a while more, in familiar companionable silence, until they are one of the few couples left in the restaurant, until Laurent ruefully commented, “I’ve managed to forget everything for a few hours.”

Damen nodded in full understanding, “Then let’s go work on those accounts.” 

“We?” Laurent stared at him. “It’s late, and it’s been a big week.” 

Damen remained silent. 

“I can’t ask you to do that.” Laurent said quietly.

Damen thought about it for a moment, and then said, “Maybe, but you can’t stop me.” 

“Funny. Your stubbornness almost rivals mine.”

“Trumps yours, I should say.” Said Damen, teasingly. 

“Please, as if.” Laurent scoffs. 

Resting a warm eyes on Laurent, Damen turned more serious. He cocked his head and said simply, “I want to.” 

Half an hour later, they are back at Laurent’s apartment, a dozen documents, arranged in separate folders spread out across the dining table. 

“I must say, your dining table has come quite in handy.” Damen remarked.

“Say that when you manage to find something useful from this haystack.” Came Laurent’s retort, without even glancing up from his laptop. 

“I…still stand by what I said,” Damen said. Something in his tone, light and ribbing, made Laurent look over, where Damen had highlighted several bank account names. 

Laurent rolled his eyes, “You could have said that from the start.”

“Maybe I just like teasing you.” 

“Very mature. Alright, tell me.”

“These are all accounts that have one or two payments billed to them, after which they then are closed. At least once a month, there is a payment here, and here, and the amounts are all around $50,000. It seems regular enough that it could be just the one source.”

Laurent frowned. “It’s suspicious, but it’s not impossible. Business accounts are opened and closed every day.”

“But why go to all that trouble? Whoever this is, their Finance department is doing a lot of repetitive work for nothing. Not to mention coordination, so that all their clients know to pay the new account instead of the old one.”

“It’s too obvious. If we can find it, then some accountant will be able to. Which means, whoever is running the finances in Starburst is on his side.” Laurent quickly pulled up the organisational charts. 

“It’s Guion. Aimeric’s father.” Laurent said, grimly. A look of understanding passed between them. 

Damen reached out to take Laurent’s hand. “That still makes me mad.” He said. 

“No more than I am.” Laurent replied firmly. Almost reluctantly, he added, “It’s late. If we don’t stop now, I’ll never get any sleep.” 

It brought up another charged moment between them, which Damen broke by voicing the unasked question: “Can I stay?” He said this quietly, a little anxious, searching Laurent’s face. 

“Okay.” Said Laurent.

Later, Damen settled himself in Laurent’s single mattress, after hanging up his suit jacket, and taking off his pants. He waited while Laurent, who had a habit of washing twice a day, had a shower, idly checking through his messages. Nik had sent him two very annoyed messages – he ignored those. He would deal with Nik later. Damen had taken the liberty of pouring two glasses of water, which he put down by the side of the wall, and he picked up one of the glasses. Just as he was taking a sip from it, Laurent exited the bathroom dressed in only a white towel wrapped around his waist, the sight of which led Damen to promptly spill water on himself. Hurriedly, he put the glass down, and did his best to wipe at his shirt, keeping his eyes carefully averted. 

His efforts only smeared the water across, leaving a darkened patch right in the middle of his chest. Then, all thought fled him as Laurent climbed into bed and settled himself across Damen’s lap, one knee on each side of Damen’s thighs. The position only made the towel ride up higher. 

Cool, damp hands batted his away, as Laurent said, “You had better take that off, if you keep spilling things.”

Feeling his throat suddenly very dry, Damen swallowed several times, not knowing where he should look. 

“Laurent…” He said, but was powerless against firm, elegant hands, slowly, methodically pushing his shirt off. He couldn’t help but look then, and run his hands along Laurent’s shoulders, over his lightly muscled chest, all of it flawless perfectly pale skin. Laurent, despite having initiated the intimacy, was all tension. His gaze remained fixed downwards and his breathing controlled, even as his hands were adeptly pulling Damen’s boxers down his upper thighs. Already hard from Laurent’s closeness, Damen’s cock sprang free from its constraints, baring the last of his nakedness. Laurent was very still apart from the tiniest hitch in his breath. He still hadn’t met Damen’s eyes once this whole time.

“Kiss me,” Damen said, watching Laurent then, his voice low with need. Laurent moved slowly, and when he brought his gaze up, Damen could see that his eyes were very dark and vulnerable, but always, always with the same resoluteness he approached everything with.

With Laurent, everything was slow, as if he had to war with himself before pushing through it, as if he had to struggle through every action. Damen knew enough to wait, and wait he did, as he lightly stroked the sides of Laurent’s arms, willing Laurent to believe that he meant everything he said. That he would wait as long as Laurent needed.

When Laurent finally brought his lips close, Damen leaned in, reaching to run his fingers through Laurent’s fine hair, the ends of which were damp from his shower, feeling smooth touchable silkiness that had been unavailable to him till now. Laurent, seeming to have gotten through whatever struggle he was facing, was now pliant under his hands and parting his lips to kiss back. Each slip of tongue sent shudders through his body in a way he had never felt before – he wanted Laurent more than anything, but with it was a heartrending tenderness that he wanted to show himself to Laurent, wanted to treat him right. Laurent had put light hands on his shoulders, though his touch was so fleeting that Damen wondered if he was primed for flight.

When Laurent moved his hands away, almost jerkily, Damen found himself trying to chase back his touch, blindly reaching for him. That was when he felt Laurent’s fingers wrap around the part of him that was hot, hard and aching, and now dripping even more. Gasping into the kiss, Damen was suddenly breathless. Laurent, unrelenting, was running a slick thumb over the tip, back and forth, spreading the wetness there. It made Damen’s head reel back almost hitting the wall, as waves of pleasure course through him. 

His eyes pressed shut as he groaned out, “Laurent.” He was unable to stop his hips from squirming, limited in his ability to arch upwards since he was restricted by Laurent’s weight on his lap. 

Damen, having held his hands back from where he had wanted to put them till now, made a low sound, as he pulled with one firm grip the remaining flimsy barrier between them and flicked it across the room. Desire flamed within him. It was a shock to see Laurent, exposed like this, spread thighs above his lap. His breaths came in shallow pants as Laurent worked him, in a steady rhythm, in waves of steady pleasure. Laurent’s own cock was hard and dripping and the sight of it spiked his arousal even further. A part of Damen could barely believe this was happening.

“You didn’t think I’m made of stone, did you?” Laurent was saying. 

“Come here,” Damen said, and brought Laurent close to him, so he could kiss him again, so he could press his lips against Laurent’s neck, and hear the unevenness of his breath. Laurent, unerringly, did not stop his hand movements. When Laurent moved out of reach – too soon – it was to look back at him, again with that assessing gaze, before he brought himself back close. But this time, it was to place his own lips, unexpectedly, against Damen’s neck, repeating Damen’s own ministrations back on him. It made Damen arch his hips involuntarily, at the simultaneous exquisite sensations, and then he was coming, hot and messy against Laurent’s hand, against his own stomach. 

Laurent was withdrawing then, taking the warmth of his body away, and leaving a chill in its place despite the warm summer night. 

“Wait.”Damen said. 

But Laurent only went to pick up the towel that Damen had flung aside. Uncaring of his own nakedness, he strode back with it, and elegantly arranged himself next to Damen, who accepted the towel to clean himself.

“You shouldn’t have thrown it so far.” He said, not quite in his usual tones, the act of what they had done before having not quite receded. Damen was the one to toss the towel aside after a few perfunctory wipes. He was the one who guided Laurent to lean back, even as Laurent looked at him with wary eyes, uncertain of what to do next, and whose body returned to the same thrumming tension that was so often within him. Whatever the gaps were in Laurent’s experience, it was clear that he reacted to the unknown primed for flight.

With another person, Damen might have started kissing him, flipping him down on the bed and climbing on top, but some instinct told Damen that it wouldn’t work for Laurent. Instead, he held him close and spoke to him instead. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Damen whispered, softly caressing Laurent’s hands, then bringing them up to kiss. “All I want is for you to feel good.” He pressed a kiss against Laurent’s shoulders. His tension was evident in the muscles of his jaw. Damen pressed a kiss there too, and then waited. 

It was some time more before Laurent seemed to come back to himself, and moved against Damen. “Make me feel good.” He said, eyes very dark, as he brought Damen’s hand between his legs. 

Damen instead, guided Laurent to lie all the way down and held himself over, gently kissing at his neck, and slowly, slowly moving his palm along Laurent’s side. It worked. He heard a soft near-silent gasp as his hands ran over a nipple. He brought his lips there too, and kissed, wanting to bestow all the care he had, pouring out all of his feelings into this simple act. He could feel Laurent shifting ever so slightly. Further below, Laurent was beginning to rouse again. Damen could feel him half-hard against himself, and it sparked a deep roiling heat in his belly. 

Ignoring his need, Damen continued to kiss all the way down Laurent’s chest to his stomach, and then back up again. He manoeuvred Laurent to lie on his side, so he could run his hands along his back, so he could tangle his legs with his own, feeling the warm delicious slide of thigh against thigh. Laurent responded by hooking one leg across his back and pressing himself close then. Running his hand along those wondrous curves, Damen kissed his hair and held him close, simply letting their chests rest against each other. Then Laurent was bringing himself up, level to his face, and closing the distance with his lips. His kisses were less restrained this time, almost desperate, and Damen held him firmly, steadily. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered in between kisses, “I’ve got you.”

Gently, he laid Laurent down on his back again, and then moved his mouth to where he wanted to from the beginning. The first touch of his lips to Laurent’s cock drew a ragged breath from Laurent. When Damen looked up, Laurent had adverted his face, but not before a single tear ran a jagged track down his cheek. It felt like he was witnessing something too intimate, too personal, so instead he went back to doing what he was doing, pleasuring Laurent with his tongue, running it one way and another way, drawing out little breaths from Laurent. 

When Laurent gasped out, “Damen,” it was a warning that Damen ignored, taking him deeper and faster instead. He couldn’t tell if it was Laurent’s pleasure that drove him, or his own pleasure that drove him, until Laurent came, gasping out Damen’s name again, and shuddering against him. Wiping his hand across the back of his mouth, he turned his attention to himself, unable to stop from working his cock hard and fast and twisting the way he liked it. He felt Laurent’s eyes on him, adding to his arousal. He felt Laurent take his free hand and move it from where it had been gripping the sheets to his creamy white thigh. It didn’t take long before he came again, one hand against Laurent’s thigh, and spilling into the other.

Looking up at Laurent then and meeting his eyes, Damen found his own wreaked expression mirrored, revealing everything between them. Damen cleaned himself, then moved to lay down beside Laurent, leaning his forehead against Laurent’s side, and pulling the light covers up against them. It was a while more until he felt Laurent’s hands come up against his side and he turned his head so that they were gazing at each other. Laurent, in a surprisingly tender move, pressed a light kiss against his lips once. 

“You have a lamp now.” Damen said, which made Laurent laugh a little nervously. 

“That’s what you want to talk about?” He said, “You never cease to surprise me.” 

“I mean that, the last time I wanted to go to sleep I had to walk all the way over to your light switch and now I can probably reach your lamp from here.”

“Yes, by all means, brag about your impossibly long arms.” Laurent’s tone was light and teasing, and covered the underlying vulnerability he must have felt. For someone so disinclined to trust anyone, Damen imagined it must have taken a lot of courage. He kissed him this time, another light lingering press of lips. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone.” He whispered, reverently, feeling an ache in his chest, pressed in by a tangle of his own overwhelming feelings. 

“I think I want to turn off the lights now.” Laurent said quietly. So Damen did, settling back into the pillows in the dark, and taking Laurent with him. Before drifting off to sleep, he felt Laurent lay himself carefully against his chest, a warm and welcome weight that sent tendrils of pure bliss through the rest of his body.


	12. Chapter 12

Laurent awoke from a dreamless sleep in the early hours before dawn, finding his cheek resting against Damen’s chest and Damen’s arms still around him. At first, it was an involuntary action to jerk free from the embrace alongside a spike of fear that some nightmarish trap had taken him unawares. But when his senses came back to him, he relaxed and lay down again. He evened out his breathing, which was another automatic response, one that came out of the necessity of hiding his thoughts and emotions lest they were used against him. That precaution loomed at the forefront of his mind, ever important in his present situation now more than ever. The unbidden and nauseating thought rose in him that maybe Damen was in his uncle’s pockets, and if so, well, Laurent thought he could still take care of the matter. The thing was, it wasn’t the first time that Laurent thought of this, but it was certainly the first time that the stakes have risen, and it has something to do with the fact that he’s lying naked in Damen’s arms, the memory of his embarrassing surrender to Damen’s touch last night still fresh in his mind.

When Damen shifted in his sleep, it led Laurent to tense immediately and to shift slightly to watch him, all the while holding himself very still. But Damen did not truly come awake. Without opening his eyes, he cradled Laurent closer and pressed his lips against the side of Laurent’s head. It was such a sweet, honest gesture given in semi-consciousness that Laurent was taken aback, and left staring open-mouthed at Damen. The world shifted around him as his previous thoughts uncoiled its hold on him entirely, making it easier to breathe again. Damen seemed to always have that effect on him.

This is good, he told himself firmly. Damen is good, is the best thing Laurent has had, and Laurent intended to live his life the way he wanted as if he didn’t have a threat waiting to leap out at him. He had had this argument with himself several times already, and he would not second-guess his decision now, would not let his obviously irrational fears dictate his life.

When Damen came awake mid morning with a sliver of sunlight bright and warm on his face, it was within a satisfied sleepy haze that curved his lips into a smile. He tried not to move in case it woke Laurent, who was breathing gently, tucked against his shoulder with one hand on his chest. Watching Laurent sleep brought an ache to his chest, and a realisation of just how much he had come to mean to him. Laurent looked younger, his features much more relaxed than the first night Damen had watched him sleep. Damen found himself hoping that was true. Laurent deserved every bit of a restful sleep, of a peaceful life. Damen must have moved then, because Laurent was stirring, and opening his eyes, blinking. He found himself looking straight into beautiful blue eyes. 

“Hey,” He whispered. 

“Damen,” Laurent said, a little shy, his gaze warmed with a suggestion of a smile. Damen thought he might never tire of hearing Laurent say his name. 

“Good morning,” Damen whispered in return, unable to look anywhere else. The kiss happened then because it felt right – soft, gentle and light nudges that they could not help, over and over again. Laurent’s eyes lingered over his face, and then wandered down across his bare chest where corded muscles rippled in the light. 

“What?” Damen said.

“You are very attractive.” Laurent said, blushing, to Damen as much as to himself. It felt like forever that he had kept this from himself, staunchly refusing to admit his attraction to Damen. And now, he thought, he didn’t mind it at all. 

“Really?” Damen said, ridiculously pleased. Laurent rolled his eyes at the smug expression. That Damen would always let everything show on his face never failed to astound him. Maybe because it was such a foreign concept to Laurent, and in such total opposition to all that Laurent knew. Yes, he thought, he really didn’t mind it at all. 

“Well, you are too.” Damen said, returning the compliment. “You’re smart and sweet, you’re beautiful and wonderfully irresistible.” He said. 

“Mmhm..” Laurent said, “Go on…” 

Laurent turned the other way, fitting his back against Damen’s chest, and exhaled softly, marvelling in the feel of Damen, his encompassing bulk, his summer-warmed skin, and – Laurent smiled to himself – the evidence of his arousal pressed against him. It was natural for Damen then to run his hand across Laurent’s front, caressing gently there – slowly. He was starting to learn what Laurent liked. 

“I love your skin.” Damen whispered against Laurent’s neck. “I love your hair.” He reached to press a kiss behind Laurent’s ear. “You fit so well against me.” He said, sliding his body against Laurent’s back, his free hand reaching lower and brushing against the hardness he found there.

“Damen,” Laurent breathed. 

“Hmm?” Damen said, against Laurent’s back, a little smug at how easy it was to bring Laurent to this state, at how _sensitive_ Laurent was, at the fact that it was _him_ who was taking Laurent there. His own arousal pressed against Laurent’s entrance, quite intentionally, and drew a stuttered breath from him. But Laurent shifted _up_ , so that his thighs gripped Damen’s cock instead. 

“Oh.” This time it was Damen who breathed, his hips already beginning a slow rocking movement as his lips wandered over the available expanse of Laurent’s back. 

They were back to kissing again, long unhurried kisses with Damen on top of Laurent and gloriously pressed close to him skin to skin. When he moved his lips to Laurent’s neck, Laurent arched and tilted up to allow Damen access. 

“What do you like?” Damen whispered against his neck. 

Laurent, breathless, and not knowing how to answer that particular question, said as imperiously as he could, “Make a guess.” He felt Damen smile into the side of his neck, before Damen levered himself up on his forearms. 

“Is that a challenge?” Damen said.

He dived back down to swirl a tongue over one of Laurent’s nipples, licking it in different ways and gently suckling. It drew a bitten back sound from Laurent and more uneven breaths, each slight sound coursing through Damen in giddy pleasure. He marvelled at the knowledge that Laurent, so frequently appearing controlled and steady, was letting Damen be with him in this way, letting him see him this way. 

He wanted everything for Laurent, wanted to be the one to please him. That thought only grew stronger when Laurent reached down to take himself in hand and stroke himself through it. Another lover would have asked and Damen would have gladly obliged, but not Laurent. Laurent almost always never asked for anything from anyone.

“Let me,” Damen moved his hand over Laurent’s eagerly. It was with averted eyes that Laurent let go, and allowed Damen to touch him. Burying his face against Damen’s chest, Laurent’s fingers came up to grip Damen’s shoulder. Damen liked that, liked the way Laurent was holding on to him - tight - the most outward sign of his desire. He decided to take Laurent through steadily, to keep an even pace and draw it out. Only when Laurent’s fingers dug in to his shoulder ever so slightly did Damen picking up the pace. 

“ _Damen_ ,” Laurent choked off, as waves of roiling pleasure shook through him. Laurent allowed himself to breathe for one moment more before turning over to get the towel from last night and fastidiously wiping down Damen’s hand. Damen watched Laurent in turn, his eyes hazy from the sight of watching Laurent climax. Laurent’s head was bowed down, and he was still drawing deep regulating breaths, as Damen shifted up to press a kiss against his forehead. 

Then Laurent was pushing Damen back down, none too gently, one hand coming up to smooth Damen’s abdomen and the other braced on top of his thigh. He looked considered and determined if nothing else, his eyebrows drawn in a strange furrow, and his body pulsed with heightened tension. Before Damen could decipher this, Laurent leaned down and put his mouth to the tip. All of Damen felt like flame alive. He groaned before heat hit again as he felt a breath of warm air and another thrill of white hot pleasure sending a tremor through his body. His stomach clenched. 

But Laurent was suddenly pulling away, separating from him with an odd sound that has Damen’s eyes flying open in alarm. Laurent was turned towards the end of the mattress, knees gathered against his heaving chest. His hands were clenched into fists that gripped the bedspread by his side.

“I can’t. I – I’m s – sorry.” He said, not looking at Damen. 

It was so uncharacteristic of Laurent that it put Damen into a helpless panic. He sat up, his own erection forgotten as he desperately tried to think whether he did anything distasteful.

“It’s okay.” Damen hurriedly said towards Laurent’s back, “You don’t have to.” From his vantage, he couldn’t see Laurent’s face at all. 

When Laurent didn’t reply, Damen spoke again, worried, “Laurent?” He placed a hand against Laurent’s shoulder and drew close against Laurent’s back. Under his hand, the stiffness in Laurent’s shoulders was obvious. 

“Please, what is it? Did I do something?” Damen said softly, head bowed against the back of Laurent’s neck. 

Laurent moved in slow jerky movements. At first, he unclenched his hands, testing them a little, then he consciously lowered his shoulders. He shifted just slightly away from Damen’s touch. When Laurent eventually turned to look at him, it was with stricken, embarrassed eyes that he cast to one side immediately. “I thought I could – ” He said bitterly, biting into his lower lip so hard Damen thought it might draw blood.

It was one of the things he never understood about Laurent, could never predict how one thing might lead to another thing. Laurent’s retreat into himself often never made any sense. Damen might not understand him, but he didn’t need to right now. 

“Don’t. I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He said. 

“ _I know that._ ” Laurent spat, a bit too loud. 

Damen said nothing after that, only waited and watched. It was many more moments later that Laurent said stiffly, “You didn’t finish.” 

“I don’t have to.” Damen said. “Will you lie back down?”

At first Damen thought Laurent would refuse, but Laurent only looked at him as if he said something incredulous and then swallowed once, before shifting to allow them both to lie back down. A little at a time, the tension began leaving him, as Damen held him close, and said nothing, simply letting them be. His cock, in blatant betrayal, had began to throb again, as if to remind him that it was still Laurent lying naked in his arms. 

When Laurent fixed an eye on it, Damen said, “It’s ok. I can take care of myself.” Damen meant it. It wasn’t an exchange of favours, he would give everything to Laurent willingly, and ask for nothing. He made to get up. 

“Wait!” Laurent said. “You -“

“I can take care of it myself.” Damen said, one hand touching Laurent’s cheek. “I mean it.”

“No, stay.” Laurent said instead, swallowing once, as color bloomed on his face, “Let me watch.”

For some reason, Damen had never done that before with any of his previous partners. Sure, he sometimes finished himself off, but usually they would be much more of an active participant. He had never had anyone simply sit and watch him like this before and suddenly the thought that it was Laurent made it feel very different. 

“I... I never...” Damen began, flushed hard at the sudden desire coursing through him.

“You... don’t want to?” Laurent asked carefully. 

“I do.” 

Then Laurent lay a single hand on his stomach and they both watched as Damen’s cock throbbed in response to the touch. Damen licked his dry lips and then took himself in hand, beginning with a slow and even pace. His free hand hung around Laurent’s shoulders, holding him against himself. When Laurent drew his gaze back to watch Damen’s face, Damen couldn’t help but turn towards him, kissing him rougher than he intended, a low sound in his throat. 

“You like this,” Laurent was saying, with wonder in his voice. _I do, I like this with you_ , Damen thought desperately, wondering if it felt more potent because it was the breathtakingly beautiful Laurent poised over him. 

“Laurent, ” Damen said, as he was nearing towards the finish. Laurent tilted his face up, pressed a quick kiss on his lips, and then he was reaching with his hand to replace Damen’s, moving it expertly with the same twist that Damen applied. His other hand was now braced against his thigh. It was better, it was always better when Laurent was touching him. He groaned loudly. A distant part of him noted that Laurent was really good at this. Damen came all over his stomach in a blinding burst of hot pleasure and collapsing back on the bed afterwards.

***

Laurent, after a shower, appeared effortlessly cool and diffident again, all traces of their morning together erased. When Damen tried to talk about what happened, Laurent had silenced him with a glare so piercing that he sighed and gave up. Privately, he thought the not-talking bit was contributing to whatever it was that had him reacting so violently. Still, he opted to let Laurent have the space he guarded so zealously, and resolved to find out what it was he reacted to at another time. 

It was another kind of pleasure to spend the morning together, to simply be in the same space as Laurent, as he did the most mundane of household tasks like clearing the dining table or washing used dishes, evidence of their shared evening yesterday. Damen was pleasantly surprised to find that Laurent’s kitchen cabinets were much better stocked than he saw last. His fridge held more than just milk this time, allowing Damen to make them both a breakfast of cooked eggs, mushrooms and toast, even if the toast had to be browned in the oven.

When they had mostly finished breakfast, Laurent talked openly about Starburst’s affairs and the current state of play with his uncle. It hadn’t always been this way between them. At the start, while Laurent had reluctantly accepted Damen’s help, perhaps out of necessity due to the sheer volume of work, he always held his thoughts separately and only gave Damen the grunt work that he was already halfway through himself. That had changed a little by a little the more they worked together, and the more it became clear that together, they accomplished more than either would have done alone.

“I’ve been thinking that we need someone with better expertise in corporate finance. And I have someone in mind.” Laurent told Damen. 

“What do you have in mind?” Damen said.

“Torveld.”

“What’s that?”

“Torveld is the younger brother of Torgeir.” 

“The CEO… of Patras Telecommunications.” Damen said, slowly, well-versed in the corporate landscape of the city. “You know him?”

“Sort of, a long time ago. He would have closed the deal with my parents, and he is the oldest, largest client of Starburst.”

“He’s an accountant?”

“Lawyer. Head of legal at Patras, with a specialisation in Corporate Finance. I think he can be persuaded to my side. I just need to make it worthwhile for him, and Patras.” 

“You have a plan?” Damen asked, at once wondering if Laurent had five plans.

“I have the beginnings of one.” Laurent corrected, which surprised him. “Torveld is taking the Christmas-New Year period off. He returms middle of January, and he will be attending the Starburst Clients annual event not long after that. I’m thinking of finding a way to talk to him there.”

Laurent had always been a person who acted with a purpose in mind. He would say things to provoke someone, or he would sprout pedantic facts because he had to be the annoying know it all git. One thing he never did, was share the thoughts that he hadn’t fully formed. That he did so now was not something that went unnoticed by Damen, even as the idea didn’t appeal to him.

“It’s too dangerous. And why there?” Damen frowned, thinking immediately that it sounded much like marching off into a lion’s den. Who knows how many thugs would be there? With drinks aplenty, it would easy to slip in an unknown substance.

“Because it would be right under my uncle’s nose and he wouldn’t suspect a thing. Also, the clients party is the single most important annual event for Starburst – my uncle will be on his best behaviour if anything. And he will be kept busy.”

Damen was silent, thinking. He didn’t like the idea, but even Laurent’s half-formed ideas were thought through enough to stand up to scrutiny. 

“Another opportunity might not turn up, and you know it.” Laurent said it calmly, holding up his mug of tea to take a sip. 

“What about approaching him with someone else? At another time.” Damen protested feebly. 

“I’m banking on my family connections for this. It needs to be me in person. Another person would reduce the chances.”

“Besides, it is not any more dangerous than it is now.” Laurent said. “There is – has always been – a gun at my head, and I don’t know all the ways it might go off. The sooner I can land my uncle in jail the better.”

“I’m coming with you.”

It was Laurent’s turn to say, “It’s dangerous.”

“You don’t say!” Damen retorted, indignant.

“Alright,” Laurent said, “I have three weeks to plan this out.”

“ _We_ have three weeks to plan this out.” Damen said, holding Laurent’s gaze firm, and silently challenging him to contradict. He softened only when a smile played out slowly over Laurent’s face, as Laurent's features arranged themselves into a familiar fond look, as enraptured by Laurent now as he was right from the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What started out as a short and sweet morning after...turned into this. I almost wanted to wait another week to draft and redraft this scene. Hopefully I have handled Laurent's issues carefully enough. 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for the comments. It's really kept me going.


	13. Chapter 13

One might be forgiven for thinking the city was dead, given the silence and the sparse crowd. The roads were not jammed for once. The trains were spacious and pleasant. It was the week of Christmas in Delpha Business Park, where a third of the offices had implemented a mandatory shut down, and the rest were only partially occupied with employees taking advantage of the clump of public holidays to supplement their annual leave. 

At Lionsheart, it was doubly quiet and almost eerie, as some of the offices on the floor had taken the year end period to end their tenancy, leaving whole rooms unoccupied. Lionsheart numbers were itself greatly reduced, with the entire Sales team on leave – no one was going to sign any new contracts at this time – and with only a skeleton crew keeping the business running. 

The trading team, as a crucial part of the business, were required to keep working, though both Makedon and Vannes had taken off for few days. No doubt they were both still keeping a close eye on the market on their own. Laurent entered their office to find Pallas and Jord already there and a cup of coffee sitting on his desk. He arched an eyebrow at the unexpected item, before directing his gaze towards Pallas.

“I have not seen a more paltry bribe.” Laurent said, amused.

“It’s not a bribe.” Pallas said, “It’s a gesture of good will, that you don’t deserve at all.” Pallas waggled a finger, “Not nice to keep things from your team.”

Laurent brought the cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip. 

“Me?” He said, innocently. Jord, beside him, rolled his eyes. 

“Spill the beans.” Pallas demanded, “Since when? Now, Damen has been looking like a moonstruck puppy for some time, but seriously man, you took us all by surprise.”

Laurent replaced the coffee on the desk carefully, as a little stab of happiness ambushed him. He let a smile touch his lips as he glanced to the side of the room where a box of miscellaneous office items was carelessly stored, it’s placement severely limiting the available space he had to pull out his chair. Laurent manoeuvred himself into his seat before flicking a lazy eye over to Pallas, “I’ll tell you all about it, maybe after you tell us about Lazar.”

Pallas predictably and immediately turned very red, “How do you know that?” He muttered.

“Who’s Lazar?” Jord asked.

“It’s not like that,” Pallas protested, shooting a death glare at Laurent. 

That was how Damen found them in the office, in a mix of stilted conversation, all while Laurent looked rather pleased with himself. 

“Morning,” Damen said, by way of greeting the room. He slumped his bag down the floor, looking between the three of them and letting his gaze linger questioningly on Laurent. “What’s going on?”

“Unfortunately, you’ve stumbled into the chicken coop, where the fodder of the day is our various love lives.” Laurent drily commented. 

Of all the things that Laurent said, Damen only heard one word, “Love…?” 

Laurent rolled his eyes.

“Tell him.” Jord said then. “He can’t possibly date a _traveller_ who is just stopping by on his goddamn round the world trip.” 

Damen nodded amiably, understandingly, though made no further comment. He made his fair share of stupid decisions in that particular area, and wasn’t about to weigh in on _that_ , least of all argue with solid, pragmatic Jord, who was unsurprisingly well-matched with Nik in that aspect. 

“That’s not even what we were talking about.” Pallas glared at Damen, as if he was the problem. 

“What ar–” Damen began, but was cut off by Laurent’s warning, “Don’t ask.” 

Damen had momentarily forgotten how this team could gossip like mother hens, and keep pecking on the same topics over and over. It didn’t help that they were enclosed in their tiny office, six desks squeezed in next to each other, fuelled by the absence of their management that day. It was small wonder they hadn’t killed each other yet, especially given Laurent’s tendency to throw a spark in the woods. 

Venturing into neutral topics instead, Damen asked, “Do we know how we did last week? Makedon wants to know.” 

“Already on it.” Jord replied. 

***

On Wednesday, Christmas arrived, a perfectly mild sunny day, cool breeze and cloudless blue skies. It was the first time Laurent thought of it as _Christmas_ , and not just an ordinary day, not since Auguste died. Not that Auguste did much to celebrate Christmas when he was alive either. One thing he did do though, was he always brought a present to Laurent. 

Laurent fingered the watch that was his constant companion, and also one of the most expensive things he owned, as he stared out of the window into the gardens below and the beautiful city beyond, all its tall glass spires glinting in the sun. There was a reason Laurent never visited Auguste on any special holidays. He simply didn’t want to see anyone there, didn’t want anyone there to see him, and holidays were the busiest periods. This time however, he bit down on that uncomfortable thought as he made his way over. He wasn’t there for Christmas. 

“You’d like him.” Laurent said, leaning on the side of the willow tree that was away from the graves, the side that hid him from view, pitching the words at the air above him. “He’s a bit like you.” He added. Laurent could feel a smile creeping into his face, and he turned his gaze down, stopping it in its tracks before it got too – _ridiculous_. He thought of how the nightmares had eased, reduced to no more than the usual, and wondered if it was because his mind had something else to focus on now. Something good, and pure, free from the taint that colored the rest of his life. He listened to the breeze rustling the branches above him, feeling the coolness on his skin juxtaposed with a rising sun that was just the right amount of warmth, and felt the most relaxed he had felt in a long time. 

If it were up to him, Laurent would stay all day and chat with Auguste, knowing Auguste would want to hear all of the things in his life. But it was unwise to indulge in sentimentality. He needed to be alert, to think. Emotions made him lose control. And all the times he had lost control, he made mistakes. Laurent exited the graveyard via a route that took him out of the way of having to pass by any of the other visitors. It was enough that he lost someone, and there was no need for the reminder of how many other people lost their someone too. Besides, he had a Christmas date to go to.

It had been so many years since Laurent had given a present to anyone, let alone someone he was dating. That he was doing so now gave him no small amount of anxiety that as much as he chided himself, simply would not go away. The fact was, that he had mulled over this matter for an embarrassing amount of time before he came up with an acceptable and viable gift. It wasn’t easy. Damen simply had everything he wanted, and if he did not, he would not think twice on buying it. As Laurent stood before Damen’s front door, he couldn’t help but second-guess his choice again. There was nothing to do but put up his hand and knock.

“Hi,” Damen said with a wide grin, when he answered his door, still feeling the thrill that ran through him at the sound of the knock. Laurent stood there, haloed in the sunlight, and dressed casually in jeans and a black T-shirt. The simplicity of his outfit only seemed to enhance his ethereal beauty.

Laurent returned a quick, “Hi,” the small smile reaching into his eyes, and piercing straight into Damen’s heart.

With an almost violent thrust of an outstretched arm, Laurent shoved a bunch of beautiful yellow flowers, tied together in a bundle, at Damen’s chest. “Here.” He said.

Laurent was rolling his eyes then, most likely at whatever look of happiness Damen had on his face, which Damen did not care to hide at all. 

“You picked these yourself.” Damen said, helplessly charmed by how sweet Laurent could be. It gratified him to see a blush of color rise up in Laurent’s cheeks, even as he shrugged in a nonchalant manner. 

Laurent in turn received Damen’s gift with delighted thanks. It was a book, and one not known to Laurent despite spending his younger days closeted in libraries. He turned it over and read the blurb, immediately finding it to his taste. 

When Laurent looked up at Damen, bright-eyed and questioning, Damen only said, “I pay attention you know.” 

It was a simple matter for Damen to stroll into a bookshop and ask for a recommendation after listing all of Laurent’s favourites. Initially he worried that he would end up with something Laurent had read before, but he got lucky. Newly released, “The Ten Thousand Doors of January” by Alix E. Harrow was a book filled with as much beautiful prose as thrilling adventures. It was the perfect gift.

“You said you wanted to build up your library again.” Damen said, an easy smile. 

“My non-existent bookshelf, you mean?” Laurent lifted an eyebrow.

“Tell me you want one, and I’ll buy _that_ for you.” Damen said. “I even know the furniture shop you like.”

“And put three – no four – books on it?” 

“You have to start somewhere.” Damen said.

“Right,” Laurent said, cocking his head and placing an undiscernible look on Damen. He deliberately stepped in close to Damen, and reached with one finger tracing Damen’s lips. 

“I think I might start here.” Laurent said, taking the single finger still circling round and dipping it between Damen’s lips.

Heat flared up bright and urgent in Damen, mostly because of how unexpected it was coming from Laurent. Granted, he already knew that Laurent loved playing games, the kind that drew a reaction from others while he himself remained coolly detached, but it was the first time he had seen it applied in this area and the most forward he had ever seen him. 

Well, if Laurent intended to tease him out of his control, then Damen was going give it all he got. He bit on the finger gently then soothed with his tongue, drawing a startled gasp from Laurent, and watched as his lips parted and his eyes became wide. Damen didn’t wait for Laurent to react, as he leaned in and closed the distance, pulling Laurent flush against him and kissing him hungrily. And Laurent _responded_ , with a fervour Damen never knew he had.

When they broke apart, Laurent was breathless and staring. “I play this game better than you, sweetheart.” Damen said.

“Do you now?” Laurent said quickly, his cheeks tinged pink. Without waiting for a reply, Laurent strolled past Damen, exploring further into the apartment. 

Damen’s home was warm in a way that Laurent’s wasn’t. The walls were a shade of yellow that matched the brown leather seating and was complemented by the patterned rug and various throws lying around. It showed signs of having lived in, with various items that collected at one corner or another. The main areas appeared to be recently tidied. The dining table was entirely empty but for a number of glasses and a pitcher of water. Miscellaneous items peeked out from under the couch as if someone had shoved it away in a hurry. It made Laurent smile. 

Damen trailed after Laurent as he stopped at the mantelpiece above a faux fireplace that contained an electric heater made to look like a real fire. On it were photo frames of a younger Damen and his family, a graduation one with Nik, and – Damen hurriedly turned the third photo frame down with a thud, but not before Laurent saw that it was of a beautiful blond-haired woman, intelligent eyes staring straight at the camera. 

“I meant to put that away.” Damen muttered, mortified. 

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Laurent said. 

“You’re not upset?” Damen asked worriedly. 

Laurent only shook his head. He picked up the down-facing photo frame and looked at it. Jokaste really was devastatingly beautiful and it was clear she knew it, from the way she posed for the camera, angling her face in a soft tilt, and the way she let her long, lightly curled – very blond – hair fall over her shoulders. The resemblance was only superficial, and only someone who knew Damen would know he had a _type_. 

Raising one eyebrow, Laurent said, “She looks like me.” 

“No she doesn’t. I’m throwing that in the fire.” Damen muttered, as he snatched it out Laurent’s hands and dumped it under the mantel. 

“You’re aware it isn’t actually a real fireplace, right?” Laurent could not help chuckling softly. 

“I’m aware we’re having a ridiculous conversation.” Damen complained.

Laurent next picked up one of the painted eggs lying in a basket at the far end of the mantelpiece. They were dyed red and painstakingly hand-crafted with beautiful golden detail. Damen explained that they were painted by Nik’s mother each Easter that Damen had collected over the years. 

Looking at the Greek Easter eggs made Damen feel a twinge of guilt for not spending Christmas with Nik’s family. It was always a boisterous affair with relatives that even Nik barely knew. Mostly it involved the two of them drinking all the way into the night. Damen had called Nik the day before to let him know he wasn’t coming, and ended up somewhat affronted when Nik said he actually assumed so already. 

“Mom says you should bring Laurent over though. She wants to meet him.” Nik had said. 

“I thought you don’t like him.” Damen replied. 

Exasperated, Nik said, “I’m just passing on the message.” 

“I still need to drop you my gift for your parents.” Damen said.

“No,” Nik warned, “I’m not a postie. If you don’t visit them yourself soon, I won’t be hearing the end of it. And then I will personally drag your ass over if you don’t do it yourself.” He said. In the end, Damen had agreed to visit within the week, but kept it vague about whether he would take Laurent with him or not.

Laurent, as if following the line of Damen’s thoughts, asked then, “Do you spend Christmas with Nik’s family?

“Yeah, sometimes.” Damen said.

“But not this year.” A light shone in Laurent’s eyes.

Damen shook his head gently, with a smile entirely without artifice. He picked up one of Laurent’s hands and waited till Laurent met his eyes, and then pressed a kiss on the back of his knuckles. “No, not this year.”

***

Later in the afternoon, they began their attempt at cooking a Christmas meal. While Laurent mixed the stuffing, Damen frowned, looking back and forth the recipe instructions on a propped-up iPad, and the very large, very bare turkey in a pan. It was so domestic, so mundane, so _normal_ that Laurent was suddenly struck by how different his life had been, just a few months ago. Then, he had spent almost every waking minute planning, thinking, and worrying about traps, and at night, wondering whether he was safe, holding on to sanity with a thin thread and clutching at his resolve to not give in, to not let himself be overwhelmed. The fight was both inside and outside of him. 

When Laurent looked again, he found Damen’s eyes on him, concerned. Damen paused in what he had been doing to lean over the counter. 

“Hey,” He said, “Are you okay?” Damen couldn’t put his finger on what it was. All he knew was that Laurent, was at this moment, looking like his thoughts had taken him somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t follow.

“What is it?” Damen asked, washing the grease off his hand, alarmed further by Laurent’s lack of reply. 

Laurent sighed internally. Damen’s perceptiveness was really something to be reckoned with. He was supposed to be the one that was good at reading other people. Other people didn’t read him. Damen was the exception.

He felt Damen come around to stand beside him and carefully put a hand on his arm. Damen simply stayed that way, silently, for some time, patiently waiting for Laurent to gather himself. A bit by a bit, Laurent consciously let himself ease, forced himself to unclench his arms that had gone around himself. 

“It’s nothing.” He said. He turned sideways, letting Damen put his arms around him, and saw that Damen was watching him with a searching gaze. I wish it would always be this easy. I wish it always had been, a small child-like part of Laurent thought. 

Instead, he said against Damen’s chest, “I wish my brother was here.” Laurent hadn’t spoken that wish aloud for a long time. It came out sounding small, wishing for things he could not have. But Auguste would have been happy to see Laurent like this.

“I know.” Damen said.

They stood like that for a long time, before Damen said, “While we’re wishing things, I wish my family celebrated Christmas in more than a fancy-dinner-in-a hotel way.” He sighed.

“I don’t know what’s worse. Not having a family, or not having one that would devote time to you.” Laurent said, as his fingers curled around Damen’s. 

“We better get back to this turkey, or it will be midnight before we can eat it.” Damen said.

“Come on, it’s not that hard.” Laurent shot back.

“You do it then.” Damen complained. 

“I like watching you do it.” Laurent said with a hint of a smile. 

Laurent’s phone chimed when they began putting the stuffing in. He handed it over to Damen, while he cleaned his hands to pick up his phone. It was Nicaise. A single text message that said, “I’m bored.”

Damen asked, “Is everything okay?”

It’s Nicaise, Laurent wanted to say. Nicaise, who had spent Christmas the last few years with his uncle, was trying to say that this year, Uncle had dropped him, most likely for someone else. Laurent didn’t say that. Instead, he texted back, “I’m trying to roast a turkey, and wouldn’t mind some help. I’ll even pick you up for free.” Nicaise’s reply was, “Pick me up then,” with no indication of his location. Laurent had a few places in mind.

“There is somewhere I have to go. And I’ll be back afterwards.” Laurent said, in reply to Damen. 

Immediately, Damen said. “I’ll go with you.” 

“No, I need to go alone. It’s safe, don’t worry.” Laurent said, ‘Do you trust me?”

Damen, wisely, chose not to answer. “How long will you take?” 

“30 minutes if I’m lucky. A bit more if not.”

Damen frowned, “If you’re not back in an hour, can I go to the Police?”

“Okay,” Laurent said with a smile, but privately he thought if he wasn’t back as he said he would, then the Police would be useless. 

“I’ll see you soon.” Laurent said instead.

***

The amusement park was as Laurent had remembered, the same stash of junk by the side of the entrance with the broken neon light sign. It was the first place Laurent thought of, but wasn’t the first place Laurent tried to find Nicaise at, thinking that it would be too easy. Nicaise would probably laugh at him if he knew.

Laurent strode purposefully towards the roller-coaster, wondering not for the first time, how safe these old mechanical things would be. Nicaise was sitting in the seat that was closest to the ground, swinging his legs off the side. His eyes followed Laurent until Laurent came to stand before him.

“You really should get off that thing. One day it will come crashing down on you.” Laurent said.

“It’s getting there.” Nicaise replied casually.

Laurent ignored that. “How long have you been here?”

“Why do you care?”

“How long?”

“Two hours.” Nicaise shrugged. “Nobody is watching me today.” He said, “They’re busy with Christmas.” Then he added, “You are.” An accusation.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I don’t want to bake a stupid turkey.” 

“That’s too bad. I do.” Laurent quipped.

“Are you going to bake more than a turkey, or is that the only thing to eat.”

“There could be.” Laurent said.

“What else is there?” Nicaise demanded.

“You’ll find out if you come with me.” Laurent said.

Nicaise looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he jumped off in a practiced way, landing nimbly on his feet. 

“I’m not staying with you.” He trussed his chin up defiantly. 

“I know that.” Laurent said, with a smile. 

***

Damen took it in stride, despite Laurent not giving him any advance warning about bringing a teenage boy to hijack their Christmas date. And truth be told, Nicaise did too, contrary to what Laurent might have expected.

“I know you.” Nicaise said upon entering, insolently staring at Damen whose hands were busy mixing the roast vegetables by hand. “You’re the one trying to get into Laurent’s pants.” 

“Nicaise.” Laurent gently admonished.

Damen gaped for a long moment, while Nicaise continued, “What? Am I wrong?”

And then Damen seemed to have gathered his wits, as he said, “And you’re the one Laurent spent all his money buying furniture for.” He said this softly, the realisation putting wonder into his voice. It was incredible how alike Nicaise’s mannerisms were to Laurent’s, as Nicaise reacted to that news with only a single blink, before he said, “Then he’s wasted his money.” He glared at Laurent.

“Fortunately, my money belongs to me and me alone, so I can spend it how I like.” Laurent said smoothly. 

“Whatever.” Nicaise said, and then walked himself over to Damen’s couch and dropped himself in, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He picked up the remote and began flipping through channels. 

“Sorry…” Laurent said, an apologetic half-smile. 

“You could have warned me.” Damen whispered. 

“You handled it pretty well yourself.” Laurent said. “Just… go easy on him. Things have not been easy for him.” 

“You should have said that first.” Damen said. 

Laurent considered that, and then said, “He doesn’t take too well to pity.”

It would be another three hours before the turkey would be ready, assuming it was at all edible. If it didn’t turn out to plan, then at least there were the other dishes, the roast vegetables, the store-bought ham, and the zucchini and feta fritters. They decided to do as much preparation as they could beforehand, so that it wouldn’t take long when they were ready to have dinner. 

“Are we still watching Christmas movies?” Damen asked Laurent discretely in the kitchen. 

“Of course we are.” Laurent whispered back. 

Nicaise had been idly flipping channels every so often, so Laurent judged he wouldn’t mind. Not that it mattered. Nicaise was, after all, the one crashing their party. 

“We’re going to watch movies.” Laurent tipped his head towards Niciase’s direction, pitching his voice over.

“Ugh. Not Christmas movies.” Nicaise complained. 

“I can’t help you there,” Laurent shrugged, “It’s not my house.”

“Fine,” Nicaise rolled his eyes. “You guys are boring.” 

“Scoot.” Laurent said, shooing Nicaise to the side of the 3-seater couch. Damen joined them soon after. 

“Did you get Laurent presents?” Nicaise said to Damen. “You should, if you’re fucking him. It’s the least you could do.”

Damen’s lips were parted in shock, as he flicked panicked eyes over to Laurent.

“Well?” Nicaise said, artlessly.

“I uh, didn’t.” Damen said, wondering if that was the right answer, but definitely didn’t like how the other answer would make it sound.

“It doesn’t work like that.” Laurent said calmly. “They aren’t favours to be traded. Damen doesn’t ask me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

Feeling like the conversation was going over his head, and distinctly uncomfortable at the implied topic, at the fact that it was a conversation with a child, Damen excused himself to the kitchen to check on the turkey and all but fled. 

“If you stay with me, no one will ask you to do anything you find distasteful.” Laurent said, and continued before Nicaise had a chance to spit back a biting remark, “But I do expect you to keep your room in a reasonable shape.” 

Nicaise rolled his eyes at that, then said reluctantly, “No one is asking me to do anything I find distasteful.” Laurent said nothing. 

Damen returned after that conversation had long returned to silence. The movie continued in a tense sort of silence. The rest of the meal, as it turned out, did not, as Nicaise decided to take the time to point out all the problems with the food. The turkey was too dry. The roast vegetables were overcooked, and squishy as a limp penis. The fritters looked and tasted like dried testicles. And did Damen get the ham from someone’s coffin? 

Only the first complaint had some merit. As for the rest, it seemed Nicaise enjoyed coming up with creative ways to insult the food. Damen bore it good-naturedly, if slightly wide-eyed. Laurent ignored most of it, only once saying, “If it’s that bad, perhaps you should leave off having seconds.” Nicaise doubled his efforts after that. Despite the complaints, Nicaise cleaned everything off his plate, not even leaving a speck. He then pushed it aside, and announced abruptly, “I’m going.” 

“I’ll drive,” said Laurent immediately.

“Don’t bother.” Nicaise waved a hand.

“Then I’ll walk you downstairs.” Laurent said, disappearing after Nicaise, but not before he caught Damen’s eye and nodded a reassurance.

Damen paced in his apartment while he waited, half wanting to follow. It was the second time he had seen Nicaise, and the few hours had been no less bizarre than their first meeting, where he had correctly identified that Damen was in love with Laurent. It was simply strange watching Nicaise act both like a child and an adult. Seeing Laurent with a part of his life separate to their work was also fascinating in its own right. More and more, he was getting to see the facets of Laurent that he rarely revealed. 

Laurent soon returned, shutting the door behind him. He took a breath before preparing to speak. “Thank you,” he said, quite formally, “for having Nicaise over.”

“Of course,” Damen said easily. 

Laurent looked rueful, “He says things to provoke a reaction sometimes, but mostly his instincts are good.” 

“You want him to live with you.” Damen said slowly.

“Yes.” Laurent said. “I don’t know how that will turn out.”

Damen thought about the implication of that. Laurent never did anything frivolous, and wasn’t one for sentimentality. He thought about all Laurent had done for Nicaise, silently and thanklessly. Something in his heart moved sideways, as he felt like he had always been underestimating Laurent. That Laurent didn’t show his emotions outwardly didn’t mean his actions were not powerfully fuelled by unseen forces that moved within him.

“You care about him.” Damen said. 

“I... suppose I do. I never thought I would.” A spot on the wall caught Laurent’s attention, a smudge that might have been a shoe mark from the general outline of it. It wasn’t there before Nicaise arrived. 

“Well, he cares about you too.” Damen thought about the strange way the two of them had interacted, quibbling back and forth as if they each followed the steps of some private routine. “In a way,” he added with a laugh. 

Laurent looked surprised at that, seeming to consider it for a moment. “Hmm.” He only said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next is an unexpected letter, the Starburst Client's party, and some serious angst!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: for references to suicide. No actual suicide.

The letter arrived suspiciously in mid January without a stamp, looking as if it had been held and handled many times, and bearing creases all across. There was no writing at all on the envelope, nothing to indicate from whom it had been from. Laurent’s first thought was to handle it with gloves and a mask, neither of which he had in possession, and so he left the letter outside of his apartment for a few days while he procured those items. In the end, the trouble he went to was needless. It was from Aimeric.

_Laurent,_

_I understand that what I’ve done is unforgiveable, and I know you might never forgive me. I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Every day I wish I could take back my actions, and it kills me that I cannot._

_I’m not trying to find excuses for myself in any way. He made me feel loved, and precious, and important, for the first time in my life. Looking back, I was just mindlessly doing things to please him. But it was always a lie, and I know that now. I couldn’t bear to face that truth, and my denial led me down a dark path. I regret that every day._

_I also want to say thank you. I didn’t get a chance to say it then. You could have turned me in and you did not. You warned me he would come after me, even though I didn’t believe you then. And he did. I was able to avoid it with the help of someone I’ve met recently._

_I know that nothing can make up for what I’ve done. But if there’s anything at all, anything, please let me know._

_Aimeric_

The words were as healing as they were cutting. Somewhere in Laurent was a residual anger that Aimeric, whom he had no connections and no feuds with, had colluded with his uncle to hurt him, and the unexpected apology now threw him into confusion. He felt disgust curl in him, catching his every breath, as the words rang in his mind. 

_He made me feel loved, and precious, and important._

He hated Aimeric, so much that it made him feel sick. Irrationally, he wanted Aimeric to go away and never come back. No, he hated himself. He hated being reminded of having once felt the same way. In the end, he threw the gloves and mask to one side of the balcony and thought about ripping up the letter into shreds, or burning it so that the words would disappear, never to be read by anyone. Briefly, he considered calling Damen, sweet naïve Damen who had no idea about the depth of depravities in the world. He cancelled that thought as soon as it occurred. No, Damen was something good, and something to be kept separate from the rest of this world.

Stumbling into the kitchen, Laurent leaned heavily on the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil, and when it did, he poured it over a teabag with shaky hands. He did his best to breathe slow regular breaths. The last thing he remembered was the stinging in his palm from the heat of the mug, growing more and more unbearable.

When hours later he became aware of himself, he was sitting on the cool marble floor and leaning against the kitchen cabinets. Next to him was a shattered mug and the spilled remains of the tea. He sighed as he realized he probably didn’t even get to drink one bit of it. Idly sweeping the broken porcelain pieces together, the thought that chose to invade then was an image of an alternate future of a lifeless face with slit wrists in a bathroom filled with red, red, red. Or perhaps he was projecting himself onto Aimeric, a younger Laurent who had nothing and no one that could help him make sense of the situation. Laurent was older now, and knew enough not to let himself spiral into a depression. That still didn’t mean it was easy to cope. Slowly but resolutely, he dragged himself up, making a list of things to do in his head: Get changed, clean the mess, make some more tea, and this time, don’t hold the cup until you’re ready.

Later that night, he found a missed call from Damen on his mobile. That was strange, and unexpected. They had fallen into a routine of spending a great deal of time together, and that had been sweet and wonderful. They had had days that meld into each other, over work, over dinners, over many long conversations. There were little moments, Laurent looking into Damen’s eyes shyly, and Damen kissing him tenderly. There were so many new experiences that slowly turned into a normality without Laurent even noticing it. It all condensed into an illicit happiness that would not be dimmed even by the planning sessions that forced Laurent to remember his struggles with his uncle. 

Still, there were days that Laurent had wanted to be by himself, and Damen had usually respected that and left him alone. Laurent dialled back nonetheless.

“Laurent,” Damen said into the phone. “You’re okay.” He sounded agitated. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” Damen was almost yelling.

It grounded him, somehow. The more Damen yelled, the calmer he felt. Laurent released a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Sorry.” He said, unthinking. That in turn seemed to stop Damen in his tracks.

“No, I’m sorry,” Damen began again, softer this time, “I don’t mean to intrude. I – You seem off the last two days, and I’m just worried.”

For a moment, Laurent was silent. Then he said tonelessly, “Aimeric sent me a letter.”

There was a pause from Damen as the words sank in, before he said, “When?”

“I opened it today.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he is sorry.” The same unemotional stating of facts.

“He should be.” Damen growled.

Hearing Damen voice his previous thoughts compelled Laurent to take the other side, to defend Aimeric with an odd sensation of looking into a mirror universe.

“What if…” He began slowly, “What if he was manipulated, and lied to by someone he cared about. Loved.” _Does he deserve forgiveness?_

There was a long silence from Damen. Maybe a shocked silence. Maybe things were black and white for Damen. Laurent’s mind ran wild, pushed into motion chasing after one bitter possibility after another.

“Laurent –” Damen said.

“Never mind. I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” Laurent interrupted. No, Laurent told himself firmly. He knew the answer to that, and he didn’t need to seek confirmation or reassurance. He could hear Damen breathing, and from the sounds in the background, Damen was probably pacing. 

“I know… that I said I would give you space,” Damen said carefully, “But I want to see you. I want to know you’re okay.”

It surprised Laurent.

This is the part of Damen that has everyone falling in love with him, Laurent thought helplessly. Damen, who declared his wants and intents, with infinite kindness, and possessing the true confidence that Laurent had never had. With him, Laurent almost felt like he could do anything, be more than who he was. Damen’s tenderness was a thing to wonder at, affection so freely given without having to work for. It stunned Laurent to a complete silence; the words were stuck in his throat unable to move up or down. 

Damen had by then mistaken Laurent’s silence for rejection. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.” He said softly, and Laurent knew that Damen meant it. 

“Come over.” Laurent said, barely managing to speak.

Laurent had never understood what a support network was for. He read about it in books. He understood the concept in theory. But only when Damen stood in front of him, anxiously taking in his profile, did he understand the allure of it. Damen’s physical presence kept him focused, and reminded him of all the good things in the world. He smiled a tired smile, and saw a tentative returning smile.

The folders were still strewn across Laurent’s dining table, containing all the information on the Starburst event next Saturday, left just as they were the day prior. Damen gestured towards them. “Are you ready?”

“We have everything we need.” Laurent said. “It won’t be easy. I don’t know what he will throw at us.”

“I knew being with you isn’t going to be a walk in the park.” Damen said jokingly. Immediately, he realised it was the wrong thing to say as Laurent’s eyes flicked away instantly.

Cursing himself inwardly, Damen moved close to Laurent, reaching for Laurent’s hands.

“Hey,” He said quietly. “It’s what I want. You’re everything I want.” He willed Laurent to believe him. 

Laurent stared at him, “What if we go, and you –”

“It’s what I want.” Damen repeated, running calloused fingers across the back of Laurent’s palm. He watched as Laurent appeared to pick up the pieces of himself and gathered them back, a bit by a bit, into the tenacious, determined and resolute self that he knew.

Laurent said, “Then let’s go through the plan for Saturday again.” 

***

The clients’ event was held at a hotel that had an entirely unassuming entrance. Off a small street that had footpaths so narrow that pedestrians had to walk in single file, the only discerning sign that it was a hotel was the weathered stone arc above that read “Belmont Hotel”. That, and the two very enthusiastic attendants, one by each side of the double doors, who greeted every single person that went past them. It didn’t matter if the same person went back and forth. Laurent had commented on this to Damen, amused, as they sat at the rooftop bar opposite to Belmont and watched the traffic. The plan was to go in only if Torveld showed. 

Patras Telcomms was one of Starburst’s oldest and biggest clients, and with an obvious vested interest to see Starburst doing well. His uncle would not want to make a scene in front of his clients, at an event solely organised for the purpose of closing new clients and keeping old ones. All the important clients would be there. Should they be able to get in, it was unlikely they would be thrown out. The bulk of the plan was that Damen would do his best to keep anyone else from interrupting Laurent so he could get a chance at a private conversation with Torveld. 

In his hands, Laurent held the invite list, where some individuals were marked against, indicating those he thought might be on their side if the night turned into a major disaster. Only one of them need keep eye on the hotel entrance, and Damen was watching, so he glanced through the list again, keeping the names fresh in his memory. Just in case.

“What if the passes don’t work?” Damen asked, for the third time, without looking at him. They had gone through this several different ways already. _Then I will go as Laurent de Vere without you. Or, Nicaise has left us wait staff uniforms and you can sneak Torveld out. Or, there are the other plans we made to stage a run in to Torveld after the party._

Laurent didn’t say any of those. Instead, he said, “Then I will kiss the fuck out of whoever is stopping us. Or you may discretely knock them out. Either suits me fine.” Damen returned such a look of outrage and exasperation that Laurent wanted to laugh, if he wasn’t half as nervous himself. He did enjoy needling Damen, just a bit.

The hour passed uneventfully, and then guests started to arrive. The men were dressed in formal suits and the women in long evening gowns. Laurent noted that they would blend in fine with their mid-range tailored suits. He felt himself stiffen as he watched his uncle, Gerald de Vere, pass through the entrance, watched as his chauffeur drove off to somewhere else to park. He pointed him out to Damen, who set his mouth grimly and muttered something about knocking him out instead. Torveld went through, with a security guard by his side – could be useful, Laurent noted – and a few others that Laurent recognised as the senior executives of Starburst. They waited an hour after that as it would give Torveld enough time to greet everyone he knew.

A text message arrived not long after from Nicaise, “This party is fucking boring.”

“Nicaise says we’re good to go.” Laurent said, after putting away his mobile.

“Okay.” Damen replied.

“If everything goes well, we will be out in half an hour.” Laurent said, hopefully.

They pass through the entrance, and headed straight for the stairs, ignoring the two attendants at the door, like they had seen everyone else do. Up one flight, and then two more before they could take the lift to the 20th floor. Laurent couldn’t help noticing that the disability access was atrocious. If it were up to him, the clients’ event would most certainly not be held at this venue. They heard the buzz of the crowd as soon as they exited the lift, made louder by the easy availability of alcohol. The party had well and truly started.

No one stopped them. No one was even checking.

It was a large, opulent room that opened out to a small balcony area. The seating was dark blue velvet with gold-rimmed edges and lushly trimmed thick white curtains framing the floor length doors. There was an adjoining room off an alcove, which was a museum or gallery of sorts, and which Laurent only knew because he so thoroughly looked up the event venue. As it was not part of the venue, the doors to that were most likely shut. 

Nicaise was behind the bar perched on a stool, with two of the wait staff standing around him, and was gleefully receiving dollar bills from each of them. It was clearly the proceeds of some kind of bet, given how annoyed the other two looked. Nicaise looked right through Laurent and gave no acknowledgement.

Laurent scanned the room, and caught sight of his uncle in the far corner, and indicated discretely to Damen, “Just… stay calm,” he murmured. He needn’t have worried, because Damen appeared focused and after a casual survey of the room, settled his eyes on the bar – something most people who arrived at an event would do. This was the sort of event Damen would have plenty of experience with, having typically been in jobs that were the front-facing part of the business. 

Despite Laurent’s second careful glance around the room, Torveld was nowhere to be found, which meant he could be in the bathroom or the balcony.

Damen hated to leave Laurent alone even for a moment, but it would look suspicious if he stuck too close to Laurent. So instead, he went to the bar to get a drink for himself. It was better to be seen holding a drink anyway. When he returned, Laurent had already moved through the crowd, all smiles and charm, conversing with several others. Damen watched from a few paces away, not wanting to interrupt, and soon found himself in conversation as well. His companion was a senior executive in the wastewater industry, who relied on the Starburst’s software to detect chemical sensor failures.

When Damen noticed that Gerald de Vere was heading in the direction of Laurent, he quickly excused himself and moved so that he stood some paces within hearing distance.

“Nephew.” Gerald said in greeting, “You’ve not been invited to our clients’ event.”

“And yet, here I am. It’s very irritating isn’t it?” He heard Laurent say.

“This is serious business. If you try anything with my clients, you should know that your parents will be very disappointed in you.” Gerald said.

“Oh they already are disappointed, but it isn’t with me.” Laurent said. He looked around airily, noticing Damen, but gave no indication that he did.

“What are you doing here?” Gerald hissed, “And don’t give me that bullshit about supporting your family. You’ve never applied yourself seriously to any of this.”

“Haven’t I? Well then, it’s nothing serious, uncle. You have no cause for worry.” 

Gerald’s eyes narrowed and without anything further to say, turned away from Laurent. Damen intercepted him before he could pass him by.

“I’m Damianos Akielos, I’m an energy trader at Avaska.” He introduced himself. “You must be Gerald de Vere. I’ve heard many good things about Starburst Technologies.”

“Ah! Perhaps you are interested in our products?” Gerald asked with a good-natured smile. It was as if all the ugliness he had heard previously had vanished without trace. Damen asked every question he could think of, and with a not wholly faked interest as an energy trader. If he hadn’t heard Laurent talk about his uncle, he was about to be bought over himself. The man did in fact talk knowledgeably about the software and with a passion that seemed real. Except it was very likely false.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damen noticed that Laurent had indeed found Torveld. The two of them had heads bent and stood close to each other. Torveld leaned even closer then to whisper something in Laurent’s ear. It sparked something uncomfortable in him that he couldn’t place. That was when he realised his mistake. He had been staring for too long and Gerald’s eyes had followed towards the object of his attentions. When he looked back, the man was smiling, but in an altogether different way.

“I see how it is.” Gerald spoke, softly and tantalizingly. “You want to know how to keep him to yourself, don’t you?”

Caught off-guard, but with no other choice, he kept silent.

“I could tell you how.” Gerald said, “You could have him completely. All of that stubborn, pretty mouth surrendered to you, and you only.” He pitched his voice soft enough only for Damen to hear, “Do you want to know the secret to Laurent?”

Damen felt sick, sick at his words, sick at the way he was talking about Laurent. The man had no _right_. But he had promised Laurent to keep him occupied, so he pushed down the churning distaste and said instead, “How?”

“Well, secrets will have to be traded with secrets. What secrets will you tell me to trade for mine?” Gerald said.

Damen eyes searched for Laurent again, and panic set in when he couldn’t see him. “Excuse me.” He said to Gerald, and pushed past him. But the last thing he heard, soft and low, chilled him right to the bone.

“But I think I already know your secret.”

***

It was done. Torveld said he would think about it, but Laurent judged him likely to agree to help. Rationally it was a very good position for Patras. Laurent had promised him a substantial discount for the first two years if he managed to win control of his company. He was just about to collect Damen when a hand pulled at him roughly, into a sheltered alcove leading to the display gallery.

“ _What have you done with Aimeric?_ ” Guion hissed at him.

Laurent jerked his wrist away, turning irritated eyes on Guion. “What am I supposed to have done with Aimeric?” He said flatly.

“He’s _missing_!” Guion yelled as soft as he could. Laurent pushed down the dread that rose in him, just as it occurred to him that the letter would have been dropped off only half a week ago. Aimeric was fine, just not in contact with his family. Probably a good thing anyway.

“It’s your fault.” Guion said.

“Mine?” Laurent said, an edge to his voice. “No.” His eyes flashed, “It was when _you_ pushed him to my uncle.” Perhaps Laurent, born in the family, under those circumstances, had no choice. But Guion? He definitely had a choice, and Aimeric’s life would have been a different life if different choices had been made. He hated the man with a fury that had his pulse racing. Another minute more and he would feel like knocking that stupid, ugly face into the ground. He turned and left instead.

Except he was intercepted by Uncle again.

“This is getting tedious.” Laurent said, “Come to talk to me again?”

“Just so.” Gerald grinned, and a coil of unease unfurled in Laurent, growing into a sort of panic that he could feel in every part of his body. Laurent kept himself still with an iron will, all the while running through possibilities in his mind, the ways that he could have underestimated Uncle. 

“I know your little secret. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Gerald said.

_Nicaise_ , Laurent thought immediately. He kept silent and made himself not react.

“Come,” Gerald said, unlocking the doors to the gallery with a single tap of an electronic pass. It was presumptuous of his uncle to think Laurent could still be ordered around, and yet Laurent needed to know what else his uncle knew. In the end his feet took him the few paces forward past the threshold of the room.

Inside, the lights were switched on and the noise of the party slightly muted. Various paintings adorned the walls, all of them in an instantly recognizable style that belonged to the early settlers of the land. In the middle were several display cases that housed ancient objects. Here, was a traditional indigenous mask, and there stood several painted clay vats of different sizes behind a red rope barrier. In the middle of the room was a single stand that housed a beautiful, very large, red ruby. It was probably fake. The real thing would only be displayed when required. Laurent saw that his uncle’s eyes lingered on the ruby greedily, before he raised them to Laurent.

“Did you really think your Damianos could love you? Perhaps, once upon a time, he could have. You were a fine jewel once too.” 

Seeing that Laurent still lingered at the doorway instead of following through, Gerald made a noise of annoyance, and walked back right up to Laurent, rudely invading his space. Laurent instinctively took a step back. “You’re nothing but used goods now,” He whispered. What would he think if he knows?” A sickly sweet smile.

A pause then, as Gerald flicked his eyes towards something behind Laurent.

“Ah, here he comes. I am sorely tempted to provide myself with some entertainment, but instead I am going to give you a chance.” There was no mistaking the hard tone now, “Stay out of my way and I will stay out of yours.”

“By all means, go ahead and admit to a crime. I care not for the consequences.” Laurent was surprised he could hear himself speak over the loud pounding of his heart, barely keeping the mixture of emotions churning underneath him from rising. He held back the desire to simply end his uncle here and now, more aware than ever of the knife strapped to the inside of his boot. 

“Oh, Laurent,” Gerald’s expression of sympathy did not reach his eyes. Instead, there was a distinct excitement in them as he said, “Have you not heard me? I think you like him very, very much.”

There was no need for an explicit threat and if Gerald was bluffing before, then Laurent gave himself away by reacting before he could temper it down. 

“I thought so.” Gerald said, before turning to leave.

When Damen reached Laurent, he saw that he looked very pale and stiff, and his eyes were entirely unreadable.

“Laurent, are yo-” Damen began, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. 

“ _Don’t touch me._ ” Laurent gritted out, and stalked off without checking if Damen followed. He had to leave; he had to think. It was all wrong. He had made his move and it was all futile, because he hadn’t considered one thing, entirely blinded by his emotions. Again. 

Damen had to work to keep pace. “What happened?” He asked. 

They stopped by the lifts and Laurent said, tight-lipped, “It’s done. Let’s just go.” Expression completely shuttered, Laurent would not say more, ignoring all of Damen’s questions. He continued to plunge on at a brisk pace, all the way to where they had parked in the opposite building.

When Damen stood hesitating at the car door on the driver’s side, Laurent said with simmering tension, “If you’re not going to drive, I’m going to walk.” 

Resigned, Damen got in the car and drove. Laurent, when Damen looked over at him, stared out his side of the window and his profile remained fixed as a coin.

When they arrived Laurent’s apartments, Damen was silent as Laurent keyed in every passcode required to get through the hurdles of the security systems. When they both stood in front of Laurent’s front door, Laurent was the one who hesitated this time.

He turned around and regarded Damen, “You should go.” He said, softly but firm in his intent.

Damen, who had waited and waited to give Laurent the space he wanted, who was entirely baffled at Laurent’s sudden distant attitude to him, as if he was the enemy there, could not bite back his words anymore.

“Laurent, please.” Damen said. “Tell me what happened.” He implored. When no answer came, he continued, louder this time, “You know this thing about being together? It means being honest with each other. With the people who care about you.”

It didn’t have the effect he intended. If Laurent appeared almost calm before, then those words were the last blow against an already fraying thread of control. 

“ _I can’t!_ ” Laurent said suddenly, white-faced and blue eyes blazing. “I’m not the answer to your dreams. It’s not a fucking _movie_.” He went on relentlessly, “And I’m not really what you want, just a fantasy come alive for you. ” His face was beautiful and terrible; his words cut Damen into pieces. There was an actual physical pain in his chest, it hurt to take another breath, and he had to swallow. He had been completely blindsided by the change in topic, by what Laurent was implying about them.

Damen took one step back. “Laurent — I don’t — what are you saying?”

“We just work together.” Laurent whispered, as if it explained everything about them.

Damen took another step back, his face a contortion of bewildered pain, and Laurent knew a bitter irony of two things, that he had succeeded in what he intended, and that he truly was good at making words into weapons. 

Laurent keyed in the passcode to the number lock, and then turned and faced Damen. “You should go.” He repeated, and then, as if as a concession, he added, “I’ll call you later.” _This would never work, and I want to keep you as a beautiful memory._

Damen stared, searching Laurent’s face for something, something to tell him that Laurent hadn’t meant all he said, but found that it was unreadable again. His feet would not take him from the spot and eventually, Laurent pursed his lips and shut the door in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to wait for my usual update time, but I finished the chapter early and wanted to share. Sorry for the cliffhanger! Next chapter will resolve things between Laurent and Damen.


	15. Chapter 15

_I’ll call you_. Those were the words Jokaste had said when she shut the door in his face. _I just need some time alone_ , she had said then. Damen was flooded with memories he thought he had put behind, and half-aware that their strange invasion came at this importuned time. It had been hard then, for someone like Damen who preferred taking action as opposed to twiddling his thumbs, sitting around and waiting. But like every other thing Jokaste had asked for, he listened and he gave in. He put aside his hurt and confusion and heartache. He didn’t call and didn’t text and he stopped waiting for Jokaste at her apartment. Until his patience lost out. He still hadn’t registered that it was the end; it was just another one of Jokaste’s quirks, or so he thought. And when he tried to look for her again, it was too late. Her neighbour told him she had gone overseas for a long holiday. No, she didn’t know where. He never saw her again for months.

That specific pain was over, and he no longer had strong feelings towards Jokaste, had barely thought about her for some time now. But the memory of _his_ feelings at that time weren’t gone: The shock of the moment was like falling when you least expect it; the entire world tilted around him, as he realised the person closest to him had left him without any kind of closure, without any warning. 

Now, all Damen could think of was whether this moment – the single shut door separating him and Laurent – was the same crossroads again, and that if he chose wrong, it would all end. Never had he been plagued with indecision like that, his feet glued to the spot, unable to take any kind of action.

A part of his mind acknowledged that Laurent was not Jokaste, and that if he went home now, he would probably see Laurent at work on Monday. But the rest of him felt choked with pain, with the excruciating sensation of _not knowing_. He needed to know what Laurent was thinking, was doing, and it killed him that he did not. 

It occurred to him then that always he had been the one pursuing Laurent, the one that made plans for the both of them, the one that _wanted_ Laurent. The thought that Laurent had simply gone along with it all, because he was there, because they worked together, plunged him into a kind of despair he never had before. What if he had been wrong, like he had been with Jokaste, and Laurent had never felt anything for him? He had been so sure then too.

Damen felt too hot in his suit, his collar too tight, even though he had reached his hands up to loosen it. He should go, but he was still staring at Laurent’s front door as if that alone could break the door down. And even if it could, he couldn’t tell if it would make things worse or better given Laurent’s unpredictability. 

***

Laurent waited over half an hour, until he heard Damen’s receding footsteps followed by an abundance of silence before he let himself move away from the door. He was going to sit down on the couch but instead sort of fell heavily into it. Tears would not come. Damen had looked so frozen, so forlorn, and that was the worse part of it all. He bit his lip so that there was something to focus on, so he would not feel that gap in his heart, in his life. It didn’t help. His chest still felt squeezed within an inch and his mind whirled with thought after thought, each one raining down a torrent of emotions too transient to identify; he was drowning in them. He couldn’t _think_. 

Some time in the past week, Laurent had been playing around with the idea of telling Damen all that had happened in his past, had gone as far as to enumerate the possible outcomes. In his most optimistic moments, Laurent thought he would be able to cope in each scenario he considered. Now, he realised bitterly that he wasn’t ready at all. He could barely face down his uncle today. The fear that rose in him, at the idea that Damen might think less of him, or worse, stay with him out of pity, almost had bile rising up his throat. 

Suddenly, he appreciated every bit of closeness he had shared with Damen, the way they had danced carefully around each other. Laurent had been too scared to take what Damen offered, had tried to keep from getting attached to the idea of them. That didn’t matter anymore, because now, he was sure of what Damen meant to him, how much he cared about him, and it felt like it had been inevitably progressing to this point all this while.

Laurent tried his best to be practical, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, to head to bed or to make tea for himself, even to read. All he could think of was that he wouldn’t have Damen again, wouldn’t feel his lips against his skin, his gentleness and carefulness, his idealistic and transparent ways, all the times they had laughed together. The last few weeks were a bright glow on his life, and now in comparison, everything was dull. 

The idea that had flitted through his mind in his darkest moments now came to him again, more appealing and more real than before. He could make the threat go away, throw out carefully laid plans and a future, and it would be worth it because Damen would be safe. Even if he might recoil at the horror that was Laurent. Laurent had never been under the illusion that he was a good person. Perhaps it was a fitting end after all. 

Hours passed. It must be close to midnight now. Laurent wondered what Damen was doing at home. Was he already in bed? Was he maybe at Nikandros, who had been absolutely right that Laurent was a curse on Damen’s life? Laurent prepared himself to get out of the couch, to clamp down on this pathetic indulgence of feelings that have no use whatsoever. Feelings don’t put food on the table; feelings don’t protect Nicaise; Feelings don’t stop his uncle from blackmailing him. 

Just as Laurent stood up, a knock sounded on his apartment door, and he jumped, heart pounding. Usually he wouldn’t be so twitchy, but he hadn’t been expecting anyone and Arnold would call if he had a visitor.

Then, the familiar voice that called out, “Laurent...” almost made his knees give out, the ache in his heart was suddenly relieved, and there was the confusion of reconciling the permanence of the thought of never hearing that voice again. If Laurent wasn’t so caught unaware, he would have pretended to not be home and to wait for Damen to leave for the second time. But the past hours spent nursing a monumental hurt had impaired his rational judgement, and so without thinking his feet took him towards the front door. 

He opened the door with one hand, only barely managing to keep a steady expression. And there was Damen, still looking as forlorn, sad and hurt and confused, and staring at Laurent with large soulful eyes.

“I can’t...” Damen whispered, “I can’t... I haven’t left for hours and I...I don’t know what to do.” Damen, strong confident Damen, sounded more broken than Laurent could ever imagine him to be. 

A large crack of thunder pierced the air and then rain poured over the city, hitting the windows so hard that their crashing sound crowded in Laurent’s head, clearing out all the tattered half-formed thoughts and leaving the single one that had been sitting quietly beneath everything else. _Anything, I would do anything for you_.

“You...” He faltered. “You better come in till the rain stops.” Laurent said.

Damen walked into Laurent’s apartment, feeling both familiarity and strangeness. He turned and stared at Laurent, aware that Laurent’s tension was a mirror of his own. Almost, he didn’t want to hear what Laurent had to say, but he had to know. 

The words that poured out were different to what he intended. “When Jokaste left me, she lied to me. She said she wanted time to herself. She said she would call me, and then she left the country for months. She lied.” Damen took a step forward, towards Laurent. “I need to know if you’re lying to me. I need –” Damen’s face twisted in a kind of pain that Laurent had not seen before. 

“I need to know if you’re going to disappear on me.” Damen pushed on. “I want to know if you’ve never felt anything for me.” He said.

Laurent’s eyes widened fractionally. He almost couldn’t hold himself up under that intense gaze. There were so many things he wanted to say, brimming in his chest, heavy and tangled. He didn’t even know where to start, or how to start. He looked away, looked down at his feet instead, and desperately tried to form coherent words.

“Laurent,” Damen said again, louder this time. 

Laurent raised his eyes, and his voice was soft, “It wasn’t your fault that she left you. She never let you get to know her, and so she knew it would not work out. She knew you would not let it go, so she left instead.”

Damen’s eyes widened as he stumbled a few steps back. It didn’t make sense that Laurent knew about his past relationship better than he did, but at the same time, everything he said about Jokaste suddenly fit. 

“Damen,” Laurent said, more insistently, as Damen sank into the couch. “You dated her for two years and never once stepped foot in her apartment, the place she lived! That doesn’t sound like a woman that you’re meant to be with.” 

When Laurent put it like that, it made a lot of sense to Damen. The denial that he was about to say died on his lips. Not for the first time, he realised that he didn’t see things that way, because something in him just didn’t want to. There were several moments of silence as Damen processed the information, as Laurent stood awkwardly a few paces from the couch, stiff and unmoving. 

“And what about you?” Damen raised his head. 

“What?” Laurent said, feeling his lips go dry. 

“Are you,” Damen said, “going to let me in?” 

“ _You don’t understand._ ” Laurent whispered, “I’m not wh –” He looked aside again. 

Damen pressed the heels of his palm against his face. Something was happening between them, but nothing was making sense. 

“Tell me then,” He said. “Tell me!” He said again, almost shouting now, and leaping out of the couch in a blur. “I don’t understand why you keep everything to yourself!”

Laurent looked at him, his mouth set in a line, his eyes half-crazed as he let out a breath of humourless laughter. He could feel himself flirting with the edge of insanity in a kind of masochistic way. 

The words were like a freight train that gained momentum as it went, delivered in Laurent’s cold impassive voice. “My uncle abused me when I was 13. He stopped not because I had the strength to resist him, but because I was too old for him. I’m not alright. Some days I want to stab him over and over in the chest, and I know I will enjoy watching as life bleeds out of him. I have thought of countless ways I would murder my uncle, and the only thing stopping me is I want my family’s business back. Is that what you want to hear?” Laurent met Damen’s eyes squarely, “If you want to leave me, then do it now.” 

The revelation was too much for Damen, who wanted to sink his fists into something, but instead had to keep them clenched against his sides. He walked the few paces towards the window, as if walking was an outlet for the agitation that rattled in him. It wasn’t. Outside, the rain had abated into a persistent drizzle, and the droplets on the window obscuring the view of the night sky. Damen could feel his hands come up to grip the window sill, the white coming up against his knuckles. 

The sight of Damen turning away was itself a whole different level of pain for Laurent. It tore a hole in his chest that left him breathless, choked and frozen. Every second that dragged on only made the feeling increase exponentially. Laurent bit down on his lip, hard. It was going to come out one day or another, given Damen’s persistence and it might as well be now. He could – _he would_ – deal with it. Better this than the endless rumination, worry and fear. 

When Damen turned around, he saw that Laurent had backed a few paces, one hand coming up to casually rest against the edge of the dining table. 

Damen moved away from the window, coming to stand before Laurent. “What did he say to you?” He said, uncharacteristically calm.

Laurent bit down the automatic response to deflect questions he didn’t want to answer. If Damen was going to leave, then it didn’t matter anyway. “That you would leave me if you knew. That he knows that I love you, and your life is in more danger than mine right now.”

Laurent continued, matter-of-fact, “If you value your life, you should go. Move away. Until this is done. Until one of us wins this bloody fight.”

Damen’s hand, raised past Laurent, came down hard on the dining table before he can stop himself. The sound startled Laurent who visibly jumped and then stared at Damen in irritation. 

“How can you be so dumb, for someone so smart?” Damen yelled. This time Laurent did not flinch, but instead narrowed his eyes warily. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. We will face this together. And you will stop pretending that I don’t matter to you.” 

Damen took the step that brought him into Laurent’s space, and kissed him, roughly, fiercely, his hands coming around Laurent to hold him still. He can feel Laurent’s frozen surprise, the slight trembling of his lips and he let go.

Laurent swallowed a few times, not trusting himself to be able to speak. The relief that spread through him, as he processed what Damen was saying, was strong enough to almost buckle his knees. His hands came up to grip at Damen’s suit, as much to maintain his balance as to clutch at Damen, to hold on to him as he had wanted.

“I never...” Laurent croaked out. 

“You should have told me.” Damen said softly, framing Laurent’s face with his hands. The look Damen had on his face was an infinite tenderness; it wrapped around Laurent warm and snug, a complete shift from the moment of violent rage from before. “I should have known.” Damen said in a whisper.

Laurent cleared his throat once. “You wouldn’t have.” His voice was soft and floating, filled with a breathiness wonder, “You’re like Auguste in that way. He had no instinct for deception, no sense of evil. It meant he couldn’t recognise it in other people.” 

Various pieces of memories were coming to Damen now. Nicaise. The way Laurent had always held himself apart. Laurent’s issues with sex and touching. When Laurent had sounded strange talking about Aimeric being manipulated. All of the times he had asked about something in Laurent’s past and he had deflected the questions. 

Laurent reached up to bring Damen’s hand down in front of him, the one that he slammed into the table. It was difficult to tell from Damen’s dark skin that areas of the surface were slightly tinged pink where blood strained against skin. Damen felt the stinging now, as they both stared at it, as Laurent’s gentle fingers ghosted over his palm. He couldn’t discern the expression on Laurent’s face.

“It’s my fault,” Damen realised suddenly. “He wouldn’t have known about us if I hadn’t looked at you and Torveld. If I wasn’t –”

Laurent looked resigned at that. “He would have got us some other way. I have never won against my uncle. I don’t know if I can really do it.”

Laurent felt tired, tired to his bones with everything that had passed, but with it was a new feeling every time Damen looked at him. It wasn’t pity, Laurent thought, it was love. His heart sang with it, and he kept having to swallow down the urge to cry with relief. How did he come to have something so right, so _good_? That was what he thought of, as he traced Damen’s face with a single finger, running it over his eyebrows, over his nose, down the side of his face, as they lay together on the couch, both of them changed out of their formal business attire. 

“I want to know all the things you haven’t told me.” Damen had said. 

So Laurent did, finding that it was easier than he expected. 

“I lied on my resume.” He began haltingly, which prompted such a look of disbelief from Damen. “I never finished university. I don’t have a masters degree.” Laurent lay his head against Damen’s chest, looking towards the ceiling. 

“How…?” Damen said. 

“I learnt everything I needed, after.” Laurent said. 

“No one who has seen your work will believe that.”

“I know.” Laurent said, in that infuriatingly smug way of his. 

Damen shifted slightly, so he could press Laurent against him. 

“Why didn’t you finish university?” 

Laurent took a deep breath. “Everything caught up with me then. My brother’s death. What I had done. All the things I wish I could have changed. I nearly –” Laurent stopped. “I realised that if I let myself go, he would have won. And I couldn’t have that. It was the first time I seriously began plotting against him.”

“I would kill him for you, with my bare hands. If you wished it.” Damen said quietly, a simmering tension bubbling just below the surface. 

Laurent raised himself to look back down at Damen, shocked, “No you don’t.” It was a side of Damen that Laurent hadn’t seen before, one he didn’t even know existed. 

“Yes I do.” Damen countered with smothering eyes, with the look of someone not driven by blind emotion, but aware of it and still choosing to do so. 

“I don’t wish it.” Laurent said softly, carefully. It was a concept incongruent with Damen; he had an odd sensation of falling into a dance of mirroring motions, of steps slightly out of sync. 

Before Damen could say more, Laurent pressed his lips against Damen’s, sliding one hand into the tangle of curls. There was a newfound intimacy between them that made kissing feel _more_ than before. When they looked into each others’ eyes, the truth lay bare and stark between them, as much for Laurent as for Damen. It didn’t make Laurent feel less than as he feared. Quite the opposite. 

Damen slid his hand around Laurent’s back and under the T-shirt he wore, and thought of how he had never desired another person more, how it had never been like this with another person. Above him, Laurent’s kisses were all open-mouthed, hard and desperate, as if he had held back months of feeling and poured them into this one single moment. 

A part of Damen registered that they were both likely not in the best frame of mind to be making good decisions. He shifted so that they lay on their sides and pulled back, one hand coming up to caress Laurent’s cheek. “We don’t have to go further than this. It’s late. You must be exhausted.” 

“Actually, it’s early.” Laurent quipped, his mind whirring on despite his body likely needing the rest. He stared at Damen for a few more seconds, before he rose up and out of the couch, walking towards the bedroom. Damen followed. 

When Laurent grabbed Damen’s hand and thrust the small bottle of lube in it, his eyes were determined.

“I know you want it. You’ve always wanted it,” Laurent was saying, even while Damen tried to resist the flare of desire, stronger than ever before. “I want it too,” Laurent said quietly. 

“You –” Damen said, clutching both the bottle and Laurent’s hand at the same time, “I don’t think tonight is a good night for it. You’ve been through a lot. We both have.” Damen said, remembering a time when Laurent made a decision that it was now obviously clear he wasn’t ready for, and the last thing he wanted was to put him through that again. He thought of all the times in the past that he was about to ask Laurent and Laurent would sidestep it by kissing him or distracting him with his hands. 

But Laurent looked at him differently now. Gone was the thrumming tension, the slight motions he made as if he were ready to flee. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you because I didn’t want it.” Laurent pushed on. “It was because I was scared it would make me fall in love with you. And it doesn’t matter now because I already am.” 

Laurent’s honesty was almost too much to bear. It made Damen bring up his free hand up to touch his face, to run his thumb across Laurent’s lower lip that he had bitten into redness. 

“I don’t want to deny you and me what we both want any longer.” Laurent cocked his head slightly with a crooked smile, “So what do you say?” 

Whatever feeble resistance Damen had built up collapsed all at once into a pile of rubble. If it was a misguided attempt by Laurent to take control of his life, then he wasn’t strong enough to resist it.

“I love you,” Damen said, needing to voice his feelings, and annoyed at the insufficiency of those mere words. He kissed Laurent hungrily instead, pressing him into the floor length wardrobes. Laurent gripped him in the shoulders and pulled him in just as rough. Damen drew his lips down against Laurent’s throat, and the side of his neck, kissing, licking and suckling there, intent on giving that part of Laurent all his attention. 

The kisses progressed from a hot urgent need to slow, quiet and dreamy, and when Damen pulled back to look into Laurent’s eyes, there was a light there that transformed his face. Damen thought maybe it was joy. It was only at that moment that he realised it had been what he had wanted for so long, for Laurent to look at him in this way, as if he was the only person that mattered.

There was a brief interlude as Damen broke away breathing hard, and tenderly, carefully, lifted Laurent’s shirt over his arms; he discarded his own shirt with much less thought. As his palms slid down Laurent’s shoulders and side, his eyes drank in the sight, admiring the smooth flawless skin and lightly muscled chest. He knew that no matter how many times he saw Laurent like this, he would never tire of it.

Laurent in turn put out a hand to trace his chest, touching wherever he wanted. He moved his hand down, rubbing against Damen’s hardness, which made Damen press close to Laurent and take his mouth again, urgently this time. He kissed the side of his lips, his nose, his cheek, all the while Laurent arched up sweetly. Laurent’s hand lay forgotten between them, as he closed his eyes, experiencing each sensation with soft sounds of pleasure. 

Then Damen was holding one of Laurent’s hands, wordlessly leading them to the bed. He took the bottle of lube out of his pocket to place it at the side and looked at Laurent again, searching for any signs that Laurent had changed his mind. Laurent answered by reaching to undo Damen’s belt, to tug his pants off, and then he was moving his hands towards his own to undress himself. It was soft and quiet as Damen pressed himself close and, revelling in the sensation of bare skin against bare skin. 

“Are you okay?” Damen whispered, tucking a strand of stray hair behind Laurent’s ears. 

“I just – haven’t for a long time.” Laurent said. 

“We don’t have to.” Damen said, kissing Laurent, nibbling gently at his lip. 

Laurent pushed Damen back then, almost rough, and met his eyes with a singular stubbornness that would not be denied. “I want to.” He said. He turned in Damen’s embrace and lay on his stomach, head bowed, presenting himself to Damen.

Heat pooled low in Damen at the sight of Laurent like this and the anticipation of what they were about to do. He sucked in a breath, unable to stop himself from running his palm down Laurent’s spine, and over the curve of Laurent’s ass. Damen had to kiss a line across his back and nuzzle against the nook between Laurent’s shoulder and neck. He had to murmur sweet nothings, like how beautiful Laurent was, how much he wanted to pleasure him, to see him lost to it, to treat him as the most precious of his heart. Damen thought that Laurent’s impatience masked an underlying uncertainty and sought to make Laurent relax as much as he could. As Damen lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot on the back of Laurent’s neck, a tiny gasp escaped from him. 

Laurent swallowed against the wave of dizzy desire, trying and failing to hold on to his thoughts. It had been a long time since and Damen – Laurent knew now from experience – was quite in proportion. Laurent thought about how Damen was looking at him, and touching him, and felt even more aroused than before. Contrary to what he had been nervous about, it felt strangely good even in this vulnerable position. Damen was looking him as if he was something he cherished deeply, not just something to fuck into; the last bit of tension drained out of him. Breathing raggedly, Laurent found himself arching into Damen’s touch, desperate for more. 

There was a brief pause as Damen’s hands left their roaming along his back and then returned to cup against Laurent’s cheeks, spreading them a little. Damen brought his lips to Laurent’s entrance, giving him a single kiss there as Laurent’s entire body shuddered with the sensation, warm smooth heat prickling across his whole body. Laurent made an embarrassing sound at that, turning his face inwards towards the sheets to muffle it.

“You -“ Laurent twisted a little to gasped out, incoherent with pleasure, almost whining when Damen stopped immediately. Damen said, “Tell me if it’s not good for you.”

“Laurent,” Damen said again, anxious, bringing himself level with him, “Tell me.” He pleaded. Laurent leaned his forehead back down. What he wanted to say was mortifying. 

“I just want you to feel good.” Damen said, nervous and unsure as he had never been with any lover before. He pressed a kiss on Laurent’s shoulder.

 _It’s Damen_ , Laurent thought illogically. They were in this together. He could do this with Damen. Never would he thought he would say this to another person, to reveal so much of himself to anyone else. “It’s good,” He almost whined, “I want it.” It was surreal hearing himself say that. Damen didn’t disappoint. He let out a breath of delight, dropped a quick kiss on Laurent’s lips, and then went back to what he was doing before. Laurent was quivering with the feeling, only half aware he was making more of that embarrassing noise. Damen was very good at it, his tongue varying in pressure and strokes, changing between light flicks and broad slow brushes. When Damen replaced his tongue with a probing finger, silently asking for permission, Laurent found himself mindlessly saying, “Yes…do it.” 

The first push of a finger in had Laurent biting back a moan, and his hips shifting involuntarily to get more of the feeling. It was nothing like what Laurent had experienced before, not even close. Laurent thought it couldn’t get any better, until Damen reached under him, to take his cock in hand. Laurent whimpered into sheets. He was melting, his limbs were liquid; his thoughts were scattered into the wind. Laurent shifted his hips up to meet Damen’s finger.

“Gods, Laurent.” Damen groaned. “I…” 

Damen was stretching him open, his fingers slick with lube. There was more of that endless sensation. “Now, Damen, _now_ , I’m ready.” Laurent gasped out, panting.

Damen released his hold on Laurent’s cock; he lined himself up against Laurent’s entrance, oiled and stretched and ready for him and pushed in just a nudge, hearing Laurent exhaling shakily. He held himself still, testing, before pushing in further. 

“Okay?” He whispered. 

Damen waited for Laurent’s acknowledgement, before he buried himself in all the way, groaning heavily as he forced himself to stay still, to allow Laurent to stretch further. His arm looped around Laurent’s chest and his lips were pressed against the back of Laurent’s neck as he held on. When Laurent nodded his assent, he began at a slow even pace, a steady thrusting and rocking.

“ _Laurent_ ,” Damen made a strangled sound, along with a string of unintelligible words. He wanted more, needed more, and was desperately holding back. 

“Yes…more…I want…” Laurent gasped out.

It was all the permission that Damen had been waiting for, and he let go, driving his hips in deeper and faster, over and over again, fuelled by Laurent’s inarticulate tangled sounds. The crescendo that built in him with each thrust was a roaring inferno that blocked out all sound.

Damen came first with a single cry, riding wave after wave of exquisite white-hot pleasure. He collapsed on top of Laurent, embracing him so tight that Laurent thought he might bruise where Damen’s fingertips were pressing in. He didn’t mind it. He felt wanted, alive and even more deliriously aroused in the presence of Damen’s climax.  
As the intervals became longer and longer between aftershocks, Damen released his hold and slid out gently. He turned Laurent over, where Laurent’s cock was hard, dripping, and untouched for some time. Laurent’s openly wreaked expression, the way his legs were carelessly spread was a sight to behold. Laurent’s hand had automatically come up to touch himself, which Damen had been expecting. He pinned Laurent’s wrist gently but firmly against the sheets, hearing a whimper escape from him, and put his mouth to Laurent’s cock. He licked the tip in broad strokes and sucked before taking the length of him in, deep.  
Laurent moaned in between breaths, his eyes screwed shut. It was the first time that Laurent does not protest this act, warning Damen that he would not reciprocate, no matter how many times Damen had reassured Laurent that he didn’t care. 

Surrounded by the distinctive wet and slick warmth, luscious heat intensified swiftly in Laurent and then spilled over as he released into Damen’s mouth. His hips had clenched and jerked involuntarily, his mouth gone slack, overwhelmed with the shattering trail of fire that lit up every part of him. Time seemed endless before Laurent became aware that Damen had let go of his cock, and the hand that pinned his wrist had changed positions to curl light fingers around Laurent’s fingers. 

Laurent was breathing hard as they stared at each other for a moment, enough for him to see that it felt just as powerful for Damen. Then Damen was getting up, bringing the cleaning cloths that he knew by now Laurent would be fastidious about. Damen gently manoeuvred him as he wiped him down in silence, then cleaned himself afterwards. The last thing Laurent felt was the most delicate of kisses against his forehead and being enclosed by a warm, all-encompassing presence as he fell into an exhausted sleep, the events of the day finally catching up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Got that angst over and done with.
> 
> Damen was always a little traumatised from the way Jokaste left him. As per usual, he doesn’t quite process his emotions, so this triggered his past and hit him quite badly. It’s very unusual for Damen to be in this state. It’s also my attempt to make Damen a little less perfect. Laurent here ‘leaves’ Damen for a number of reasons, but mainly because he was quite overwhelmed and pretty much acted without thinking too much. 
> 
> I know it’s kind of questionable for the sex to happen now, but they are after all in a committed relationship and have been for a while. Laurent’s problems are less about sex and more about trust. 
> 
> Hope you guys like this chapter. Thank you for leaving me comments they always make my day x


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s been 2.5 months since my last update! Truth be told, I’m a bit nervous starting up again as I hope it still remains consistent with everything before. 
> 
> Warning: if you don’t like cliffhangers, you should wait for the next chapter!

It was a quiet pleasure for Laurent to look upon Damen’s sleeping face, comfortable and relaxed, and to watch his chest rising and falling in tandem with his soft breaths. He almost couldn’t believe he had this, that it was here to stay. His lips curved in a soft smile unwittingly. Granted he had been together with Damen for several weeks now, each day better than the last, but still Laurent had taken one day at a time, with the attitude that if it was as transient as everything he had known, then he would take what he could get. 

It was different now. He wanted Damen with a fierce longing, wanted him to be his, wanted always to wake up like this and watch Damen sleep. He felt an urge then to press himself against Damen’s neck, to inhale his familiar scent and feel his sleep-warm skin against his lips, to bury himself in Damen’s embrace. He allowed himself a little of that, sliding just a bit closer towards Damen, who in his half-asleep state closed the gap between them and hugged Laurent to himself, even throwing one heavy leg across Laurent’s ankle. Laurent kept very still, a bubble of happiness rising up in him. It was one of the things he loved about Damen, how physical he could be, whether it was in the soft careful touches, or the sure grip he held Laurent with, most often accompanied by an expression of open unfiltered desire. It was the way they seemed to always _fit_ together. He felt confident that there was no question of that now. 

As the last traces of sleep fell away, memories of the last evening came back to Laurent in clarity, and with it came along a nagging urgency that made him itch get up and do something. There were things that needed planning, people he needed to warn, to take care of. He extracted himself from Damen’s arm as careful as he could – Damen did not come awake, which was a testament to how exhausted he must be. The events of the last night had taken a toil on both of them. Laurent wasn’t immune to it either. He would have liked nothing better than to lay in bed with Damen, to close his eyes in peaceful rest, but there was no peace to be found with the way things were. 

At the bedside, Laurent paused for a moment to wonder if Damen was dreaming, and whether it was a good dream given his contented expression and relaxed sprawl. Shaking his head at this new sentimentality, he turned away from the single bed they shared. At some point, he thought he should probably upgrade the single mattress to a proper sized bed, especially if Damen were to sleep over more often. The thought sparked a little flame of happiness within him, providing a respite from the rest of his worries, a little joyful counterpoint. 

At first, Laurent moved through his usual morning tasks; he reached out for his own shirt but then halted midway and grabbed Damen’s shirt from last night instead, pulling it over himself. Glancing down at himself briefly, it told him exactly how ridiculously large Damen was, as the shirt went all the way down to about Laurent’s thigh. But it smelled like Damen, and he decided he liked it quite a bit. He then went about washing his face and brushing his teeth, all of it done hurriedly. 

He rifled through his wardrobe next, picking out clothes with which to dress after a shower, before stepping into the bathroom again. It had to be a quick one, but he was looking forward to the warm water, if only because he was a little... _sore_. A sudden recollection came to mind then of Damen cleaning him up last night as he lay exhausted, barely able to open his eyes. Of all the things they had done, this was the thought that brought a deep flush of embarrassment rising up his chest. Never before had he let down his guard so much around another person. 

With the shower done, and feeling refreshed, Laurent allowed himself a brief moment to eye Damen still sleeping soundly, and then grabbed his phone before crossing the bedroom and shutting the door gently behind him.

Already Laurent had wasted precious time waking up late when he should be planning and thinking about his uncle’s moves. The first thing to sort out was getting Nicaise out of the crossfire. Laurent hoped with all his heart that Nicaise was ready to leave. He might choose not to, or worse, plead with his uncle bearing some kind of false hope. At the very least, Laurent thought Nicaise would have the sense to check his messages and respond quickly. He texted Nicaise.

 _Laurent: What we talked about before, it needs to be now._

Laurent only had to wait a minute before the familiar three dots appeared on the screen, indicating Nicaise was typing. 

_Nicaise: Okay._

_Laurent: Okay?_

_Nicaise: I’m not stupid you know._

_Laurent: I didn’t think so. Today?_

_Nicaise: Not today._

Laurent frowned. It was best not to delay, but Nicaise could be stubborn when he wanted to, and it was already a good response all things considered. He tried to think of it from Nicaise’s point of view. He would be leaving the home he had been in for the past five years. It would be undeniable now what sort of person his uncle was. In a sense, Nicaise had never really been in physical danger unlike Laurent, so he still maintained an innocence of feeling relatively safe in the world. Laurent fervently hoped that nothing would happen to change that. He sighed softly as he decided to reply in assent. He couldn’t really be sure what Nicaise was thinking.

_Laurent: Tomorrow then?_

_Nicaise: Okay._

____

____

_Laurent: I’ll pick you up._

_Nicaise: No_

____

____

Laurent pressed his lips together as he tried to remember if he had been contradictory as a teenager. Probably. He sighed. A couple more text messages later and they settled on a plan. Nicaise would come to Laurent’s neighbourhood first thing in the morning, but not directly to his apartment in case anyone was following. This meant Laurent should probably take the day off. He quickly typed an email to Vannes, asking for exactly this. There would be no opposition from Vannes. He had taken very little time off since he started work and there weren’t any critical tasks on his part at this time.

The need to keep everyone around him safe was a thrumming anxiety within Laurent. In his mind, they simply needed to ride out the next one week or so, as his uncle’s best move right now would be some kind of blackmail, threatening the people connected to Laurent. Damen’s family and his best friend Nik came immediately to mind, and Laurent had to think of how to tell Damen that he needed to keep his family safe too.

There was one other person that also surfaced in his thoughts. It was only fair to warn him. Laurent dialled the number that he had memorised, even though he hadn’t planned at that time to be using it.

When the ringing stopped and a voice on the other end answered, Laurent took a breath and pushed away the distaste that rose in him.

“Aimeric.” He spoke into the phone.

***

Damen awoke in the late morning, mildly appalled that he had slept in and even more concerned that he hadn’t heard Laurent wake up like how he usually would. A sudden irrational worry sprung up that Laurent might disappear before his eyes even as he told himself it was probably nothing. That didn’t stop him from yanking the bedcovers off, swinging his feet off the side and pushing himself up. He let the bedroom door crash against the wall as he pulled it open and strode out, the panic only receding when his eyes found Laurent standing by the far side of the living room, looking up from his mobile phone in hand. He crossed the floor quickly over to Laurent who had looked up in surprise. 

“I half expected you to be wearing nothing.” Laurent said teasingly, a pointed glance at Damen’s boxers. He still remembered one of the earlier times that Damen had stayed over, Laurent embarrassingly flustered because Damen had sauntered out of the bedroom entirely naked. For Laurent, it was unthinkable to do that, even if he were by himself. Clearly, Damen grew up with different ideas.

Damen relaxed, his eyes settling on nowhere but Laurent. “I didn’t think you wanted to share me with your neighbours.” He replied easily, gesturing at the window Laurent was leaning against. 

Damen fitted himself comfortably next to Laurent, who leaned against him, their shoulders touching. There was something easy between them now, something that they didn’t have before. 

“Oh? Are you sure there is anything worth sharing?” Laurent teased, letting his gaze roam down towards Damen’s feet and then back up. 

“You seemed to think so last night.” Damen nudged Laurent’s shoulder, and watched as a flush crept up Laurent’s cheeks. 

Before Laurent could say anything, Damen dropped his head onto Laurent’s shoulder and laughed. He kissed him easily on the mouth, and then his hands came up to smooth down Laurent’s front. 

“Is this my jumper? I like it when you wear my things.” Damen said softly.

Laurent kept his pleased smile to himself, keeping his face hidden from Damen for a moment, before he turned back and raised an eyebrow, “You like it when you divest me of one of your things you mean?”

Damen shrugged, “That too.” Damen said it with one hand around Laurent’s hip, his thumb moving in firm small circles. He couldn’t stop smiling at Laurent, couldn’t look away, feeling more in love and happy than he could remember. 

“You should go bathe.” Laurent said, one palm resting on Damen’s chest.

Damen tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips together, “Or we could bathe together.” He suggested. 

Laurent’s teasing expression was momentarily interrupted as he seemed genuinely taken aback, “I never…”

“Just a suggestion,” Damen murmured. They were standing so close that if Damen leaned forward a few more inches, his forehead would rest against Laurent’s. He ran his fingers through Laurent’s hair and tucked a strand behind his ear. It was a sweet and intimate gesture that just felt natural to Damen in the moment. Something in him ached at the thought of all that Laurent had not experienced. He wanted to catalogue it all and share it with him. 

Laurent looked considering for a moment, and then smiled shyly. “Maybe another time, I already bathed.” he said, sidling out of Damen’s reach, and thoroughly enjoying Damen’s reaction to the promise in the future.

***

“Why is he here?” Nik said, his expression turning sour as his eyes settled themselves on Laurent. He dropped the keys he had used to let himself into Damen’s apartment on the hallway table with a distinct thud. Nik acted with familiarity, casually helping himself to an apple in the fruit bowl on the dining table, before shuffling over to where Laurent and Damen were seated on the couch. 

Laurent leaned an elbow casually on the arm rest, his legs crossed in a relaxed pose, as he met Nik’s gaze steadily.

“Hello Nikandros.” Laurent said lazily, knowing full well that his use of Nik’s full name annoyed him. 

Damen looked somewhere between trying to pacify both sides and annoyed at having to do so. The silence was only broken by Nik crunching into his apple.

“Nik, thanks for coming over.” Damen said, as he cast a warning glance at Laurent, who shrugged then got up and walked over to the mantelpiece over the faux fireplace, lingering over the photographs and various knick-knack items that Damen had collected over the years.

Nik sat himself down in one of the adjacent armchairs and looked at Damen shrewdly. “You’ve got yourself into some trouble again, haven’t you?” He said

At Damen’s grimace, Nik demanded, “Is this like that Campbell incident when we were in high school? Please tell me it’s nothing like that.”

“No, no!” Damen protested.

“Oh pray, do tell – what was that about?” Laurent quipped with interest.

Nik craned his neck around to glare at Laurent, “The kind where Damen thinks with his dick. Not unlike what he is obviously doing now.”

“I quite like it when Damen thinks with his dick.” Laurent replied without missing a beat, “I quite like his dick too.” Laurent said. 

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” Damen interrupted just as Nik was about to open his mouth and say something. “I’m going to do the talking and both of you are going to keep quiet.” Damen said, in the firmest voice he could muster. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. At the same time, Nik promptly pursed his lips together with an obvious effort. 

“Nik,” Damen began, “I should have told you this some time ago.” Damen began to explain Laurent’s relation to Starburst and the first poisoning attempt, and about the suspected financial fraud. He could tell that Nik listened with a growing horror and unease.

“And you thought it was a good idea to infiltrate this man’s party and involve yourself in their war?” Nik said, “Good god, now that he knows you’re on Laurent’s side, he wants to get rid of you too. Is that what it is?”

“Something like that.” Damen said.

Nik threw his hands up in the air, a gesture that Damen was fairly familiar with, “Oh, god.” He said. “Why is it you can’t just have a quiet life?”

“This is your fault.” He glared at Laurent, who stared back silently, his expression giving nothing away.

“Nik, don’t say that. I love him.” Damen said, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said it was simply what it was.

Nik rolled his eyes and then muttered, “That’s the problem, you always do.” He then turned to Laurent, now leaning on the wall beside the fireplace. “And you love him too?”

Laurent didn’t deign to answer so Damen did – fiercely - “He does.” 

“I sincerely hope that it is not all in your imagination this time, like with Jokaste.” Nik said with a long look at Damen. “So,” He said, turning serious, “You need someone to take these documents, files and hard drive to Torveld, without it being either of you.”

“I don’t,” Laurent interrupted, “I can take it myself.”

“No, you’re not. We discussed this.” Damen said calmly. “And you’re not either, Nik. I was thinking more that you would know someone who moves around the Telecommunications industry in your circles, so that it doesn’t look suspicious. We need someone we can trust though.”

Nik leaned back thoughtfully as his eyebrows drew together in a furrow. “I know several.” He said, thinking aloud. “But there is probably only one person I would trust.” Nik nodded to himself as he settled on his choice, “Lydos, my cousin. He would do it for me. He works in Patras commercial sales as department head. He even has a parking spot in the building, so he can drive all your stuff over.”

Damen hummed, “I had no idea Lydos worked at Patras. It’s a good plan.”

“You couldn’t tell the difference between each of my cousins, Damen.” Nik rolled his eyes.

“I could, if you didn’t have twenty of them.” Damen retorted.

“Lydos would be the best person I can think of,” Nik said, “And anyway, he can defend himself quite fine. I’ll warn him anyway.”

“It’s just a couple of hard drives.” Laurent added, “Easily concealable.” 

“Okay.” Nik said.

Laurent didn’t like the idea of putting anyone else at risk, and his strained expression reflected that. Damen seemed a lot less concerned. When Laurent had voiced concern over Damen’s family, Damen had scoffed and explained that both his parents were senior enough to have bodyguards attending them, and both his and Nik’s family had a history of loving sports – in particular wrestling (and that Laurent should try it sometime). Let him try, Damen had scoffed.

Laurent carefully smoothed his features and walked around to sit on the couch. He stared at Nik somewhat awkwardly, and said, “Thank you,” After a beat, he added, “Nik.”

“Just try not to break Damen’s heart.” Nik said gruffly, thoroughly ignoring Damen’s glare. 

Afterwards, they continued talking, with Nik asking questions about Laurent’s plans, and Laurent answering parts of it and evading the rest. Everything was still too raw for Laurent, who grew more and more tense even as Damen shifted his hand to brush his fingers against Laurent’s, not wanting to trap his hand in his, but at the same time wanting to let Laurent know that he was there for him. 

Nik left as soon as the details were finalised and he was satisfied that it was a good plan. He wanted to organise things with Lydos as soon as possible, and before Monday.

“I don’t know what I would do without Nik.” Damen said to Laurent when they were alone once again, “He’s always had my back for as long as I can remember.” 

“He is the brother you never had.” Laurent said quietly, visibly relaxing himself in a stilted motion. 

“Thank you for going along with it.” Damen said.

“I know you’re trying to protect me.” Laurent said. “I just - I’m not used to relying on other people. It’s only always been me since Auguste died. I... have a hard time trusting other people. It feels... uncomfortable.” 

Damen listened with a pang in his heart. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Laurent all these years. It was rare to hear Laurent voice all his thoughts still, so it felt all the more precious to hear. 

“You’re not alone now.” Damen said, and Laurent gave him a tiny smile, reaching his hand out to lace with Damen’s fingers in his own. They sat there like that for a while, Damen simply enjoying the warm feeling of having Laurent’s hand in his. 

After some time, Damen spoke again. “It would be really good though,” Damen said with a pointed look at Laurent, “if you stop antagonizing Nik.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Laurent said, a mischievous light playing in his eyes. “Besides, he almost always starts it first.”

“Don’t think I don’t know any of what you do.” Damen scoffed.

“Well, what do I do?” Laurent shrugged and put on an innocent expression, shifting his body sideways on the couch so that he faced Damen directly. Casually, he rested a palm on Damen’s thigh. 

It was enough to make Damen close his eyes in admonishment. “This. You do this.” He complained, but could not stop himself from concentrating on the feel of Laurent’s light touch, the span of his hand and the warmth emanating from it. The memory of some other night when Laurent traced his body with a single palm filled his mind and tingled his skin. When he opened his eyes, he leaned over and unerringly captured Laurent’s mouth, letting his lips linger against Laurent’s. He could feel Laurent’s delighted smile, as he shifted closer and slid his hand into Damen’s hair, holding him there. It was nice to see Laurent relaxed and enjoying simple pleasures, as if a young man without a care in the world.

“But I love it.” Damen said softly as he pulled away. He had the satisfaction of seeing a light shining in Laurent’s eyes as his hand slid into Laurent’s, “I love you,” He said easily as Laurent reached in for another kiss. 

Afterwards, Laurent held on to Damen’s hand, and stared down at their clasped hands. He dragged a breath out and said, “I’m worried about Nicaise.” He sighed as he looked away from Damen. “While he’s agreed to leave for my sake, I’m not certain he really understands the danger. He thinks my uncle won’t hurt him. They never do.”

“Is this a good time to ask about Nicaise’s history?” Damen asked carefully.

Laurent stiffened slightly, “I will tell you some. Nicaise grew up on the streets and was taken in by my uncle when he was very young. In return for food and shelter, he provides my uncle with... _services_.”

Laurent watched as understanding bloomed on Damen’s face, replaced by horror, and then his jaw clenched in silent rage. Damen breathed out once, “That fucking piece of _scum_.”

Laurent didn’t say that Nicaise had, at least for a time, fallen in a kind of love or dependency with his uncle. Like he once had. He still had good instincts, and seemed to know enough to attempt extracting himself from the sticky web that Uncle had spun around him, or at least he did when he was at his most clear-headed. Laurent knew from experience that it was a process, two steps forward and one step back. He hoped that Nicaise was far enough along it.

Sometimes, Laurent thought that if he managed to save Nicaise, and be there for him when it all came crashing down, it would be like doing all he had never been able to do for his teenage self. A second chance of sorts, knowing all he did now. Sometimes, he wondered whether it was a selfish instinct on his part that brought him and Nicaise together.

***

As much as Damen had wanted to stay at home with Laurent, and not leave his side for all of the week, he had to be in the office. There were already various client meetings in place for Monday and his was really the sort of profession that required him to be present in the office. Damen only had half of his mind focused on his work; the rest was distracted worrying about Laurent, Nik and Lydos. 

Talk in the office was almost exclusively on the upcoming sale of the business and relocation of their office. There was much cheering over the fact that they could – finally - leave behind this mess of a tiny office and not have to trip over random cables. As the first pictures of the new office location were passed around, everyone pored over it and cooed over the modern design (it looked exactly like what a standard open plan office should look like). There were also various decisions to make such as additional equipment needed in the new office, whether they should have two or three white boards, and what a preliminary seating arrangement might look like. It was a new beginning of sorts for the startup. With the sale, finances were going to be different - more that is - and that meant certain strategies previously untenable were now open to them. 

Damen glanced at his phone every so often waiting for messages. He checked in with Nik and Laurent as much as he could, and otherwise had to be content that no news was good news. Monday trudged on in the slowest possible manner. Time itself seem to crawl, putting Damen in a sharp frustrated mood that was more reminiscent of Laurent than himself. 

Damen had never had an overactive imagination. His mind wasn’t the sort that supplied him with disaster scenario after disaster scenario. His anxiety expressed itself in more physical ways, like finding that he walked faster or his footsteps dug deeper in the ground, accidentally throwing down a folder with more impact than he intended. In a way that was a good thing, because he only really panicked when he needed to, and not a moment before. The nightmare began with a phone call.

It confused Damen at first, because it was the _wrong_ phone. He had two phones, one personal and one for work, though admittedly, he did use both for work. Laurent called the other phone, the work phone, the one that he used for making trades exclusively. It wasn’t like Laurent to mix up the phone numbers.

“Laurent?” Damen answered in a rush, but all he heard were some scuffling sounds on the other end, maybe the wind blowing. He spoke Laurent’s name again, confused, and waited.

Then he heard a voice, and it chilled him all the way into his bones. His heart seemed to beat out of his chest as he stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud thwack.

The voice didn’t belong to Laurent.

“You think you’re so clever, aren’t you?” A deep voice sneered. 

“As a matter of fact, yes I do.” It was Laurent, Laurent who answered, his smooth voice instantly recognizable. It sounded casual, almost nonchalant, though Damen knew that Laurent must feel more than that. It was the situation he had been afraid of, as he tried to warn Damen that his uncle was full of traps. 

There was a sickening sound of impact and a grunt after that. Damen’s blood turned to ice, he knocked over something on the desk as he reached to steady himself, dizzy with feeling. He wanted to go to Laurent now, he would destroy everything in his path to get to Laurent, but he didn’t even know where Laurent was.

When the room swam back into focus, Damen found everyone looking at him. He tried to swallow down the panic and helplessness.

“It’s Laurent,” He said, his voice hoarse, as he switched the phone to speaker mode. “He’s in trouble.”

The voice from the phone now echoed loudly in the room.

“Is that… is that all?” Laurent said, breathlessly.

Another sickening sound of impact.

“No,” came the other voice, “I’m just trying to make it last.”

After another grunt, “Still doing my uncle’s bidding all these years, aren’t you? Have you ever thought time might be running out?”

Damen didn’t catch the rest of the conversation. The room erupted in chaos. Damen was trying to ask Laurent where he was, to no avail. Vannes was saying something. Jord was asking Damen something.

In the end, Jord standing next to Damen, grabbed him bodily and yelled, “You need to list a number of possible places and we’ll split them between us now.”

Damen nodded vigorously, unable to make his voice work, as several anxious faces in the office stared back at him.

“You guys go. I’ll call the police, and handle things from the office.” Then he took out a set of keys from his pocket, “One of you take my car!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is fully written, chapter count should be more or less correct. We are near the end!
> 
> I love love love all your comments! ❤️


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up breaking up a chapter into two so this is a bit shorter, but also it means it will be next chapter before I resolve this sequence of events.

The first time Laurent met Govart was when he was seven, spending his days trailing after his brother and delighting in new books, carefree as any orphaned child of a fairly well-to-do family could be. Govart hadn’t made an impression then. He was just another one of many faceless men in suits dragged around by his uncle, assisting with some task or another. There was a particular moment that snagged on to Laurent's memory though he was never quite sure why; a late night dinner party where Laurent, sleepy and in his bed clothes had wandered past, curiously peering in the way a child might watch the adults with fascination. No one noticed him. Laurent remembered Govart standing idly near the entrance to the lounge, bored and restless, his fingers tapping away at his side. His eyes flicked across the room here and there - guarding, though Laurent didn't know it then - and then he turned his gaze on Laurent for a brief moment before looking away. Children didn't interest him one bit. 

Govart couldn’t be any more different to who he had become now, or perhaps then, he had simply been disguising his true self under layers and layers of respectability. Uncle would have brought out the worst in him as he tended to do, given him opportunities to let loose his sadistic tendencies all the while plying him with wine, women, and money. Somewhere along the way, Govart would have found himself always doing Uncle's bidding, _wanting_ to do them obedient as a dog on heel. Somewhere along the way, it would become a new normal, no doubt skilfully manipulated on Uncle's part. What would Govart's life have been like if he had never met Gerald de Vere? Uneventful and boring, going through one menial job after another, or was it inevitable that he would end up hurting one person after another?

In recent years, Govart grew cocky, spending his ill-gotten wealth in ostentatious ways despite Uncle telling him to keep a low profile. A gold watch, designer sunglasses, the latest mobile phone, spending free evenings at the pub boasting to anyone who would listen. Laurent had seen his uncle grow less and less tolerant of Govart, speaking to him in curt tones that did nothing to stem his actions. If anything he grew more and more openly resentful, though never quite openly defying his uncle. It all spoke to one thing.

“You have something on my uncle, don’t you?” Laurent said, resolutely ignoring the pain that spiked from his cut lip as he spoke. “Don’t you know what that means?” He shifted on his feet, transferring his weight from one to the other, and the movement slightly jigged his wrists that were held behind him by one of Govart's men. Govart, Laurent had come to know through the years, used his massive bulk and weight to his advantage but otherwise had little intelligence or dexterity to his fighting style. The one who gripped his wrists was different. While he may not have been able to subdue Laurent if it was a one-on-one fight, he was cautious and certainly learnt his lesson after Laurent's sneak attack almost succeeded. On the other hand, he had much less cause to hate Laurent being just hired muscle.. 

"You can bet my uncle doesn't want you to know." Laurent continued, as conversational as if he was commenting on the weather. "You're no more than a useful tool to him, or do you think the number of years you've spent beside him is worth anything more than that?"

A part of Laurent couldn’t help it, speaking in this antagonising, challenging way. He would maintain what dignity he could, until he could not. Laurent's mind had worked furiously from the first moment after he had gotten over the surprise of finding Govart in place of Nicaise. His injuries while fairly mild at this stage, just a varied assortment of cuts and bruises, at most a fractured rib, was too insignificant to be Uncle's end goal; He stopped that train of thought there. As long as Laurent could keep Govart talking and delay things, then all this wouldn't be over so soon, and he would have a chance of finding a way out. He fixed all of his mind on this, and refused to think beyond.

Govart frowned. Laurent’s words had struck a chord in him, planted a seed of doubt, and it was clear he wanted to hear more. Laurent resisted the urge to look around his surroundings for anything that might aid him, and instead took stock of what he had on his person. In his pocket was an item only this morning was sitting in an innocently wrapped package of nondescript brown paper, courtesy of Aimeric, and far too valuable to be left just like that. But that was the whole point, to disguise it as nothing important. If there came an opportunity, Luarent would need to be very precise. It was a shame he had lost the knife that was usually sheathed at the back of his right boot earlier.

"You uncle and I help each other out." Govart said with narrowed eyes.

"Aimeric helped my uncle." Laurent said. _And look what happened to him._

Govart laughed suddenly, unexpectedly, as his features relaxed. He said, "Nice try. Your uncle warned me that you have the mind of a snake. That you would talk your way out of this.” He picked up Laurent's discarded knife from the ground, holding it up so that it glinted bright in the mid day sunlight, as if he was admiring it. He brought it close again and then reached out and tapped it against Laurent's cheek slowly - once, twice, three times, the cold steel threatening to make Laurent tremble despite the sun beating down on them. Laurent held it back instead and gave nothing away. 

"Such a pretty face." Govart went on, "What a pity it would be if you cannot speak." There was a light in Govart’s eyes, a kind of almost manic glee shining within. 

Laurent didn’t blink. He could handle this. He could. He simply needed some time. But somewhere inside of him recoiled at the suggestion. His heart beat faster, and unthinkingly, he tested his wrists still being held in a vice-like grip. It tightened then, fingernails digging in painfully, and something kicked him in the back of his calf, hard.

“I wouldn't.” A flat voice spoke from behind Laurent's back. 

“Where’s Nicaise?” Laurent breathed, partly to distract himself from the pain and partly to make sure he can still talk.

“Not your concern.” Govart scoffed, taking a step closer, peering into Laurent's face. He brought the blade away from Laurent's face and then smiled, not at all kindly. "I think I will enjoy this." He said, "I’m sure your uncle can wait a little."

“You don’t think we’re too close to the shops?” Laurent replied, trying not to rush the words out. “Someone will walk past this alleyway sooner or later.”

Govart chuckled, “My men are at both ends keeping watch. Any other concerns before we start?" 

"How long you think my uncle will let you live, after you've done all his dirty work?" 

Govart seemed on the verge of a reply, but then paused and collected himself. "You're stalling," He said, a secretive smile coming up. "I don't mind. I have been waiting for this, you know, I never thought your uncle would let me have at you. You little thorn in my side, you've finally outlasted your luck. How long do you think your uncle would let you live?” 

“How long is a piece of string?" Laurent looked around him musingly. "This is a rather long alleyway.” 

Govart misunderstood. “Hah! You must be kidding if you think we need backup to handle one of you.” 

It was better that the knife went elsewhere, or so Laurent thought. It was starting to make him nervous, and it clouded Laurent's mind with anticipatory thoughts of pain. “How’s your shoulder, Govart?” He said. 

The big man’s eyes narrowed and the grin faded. He was angry now. There had been an incident 3 years ago. Govart, drunk from one of his revelries, had advanced on Laurent, sitting quietly with a book in the library wing of the mansion, and Laurent, in response, had promptly produced a knife and stuck it into his shoulder. He twisted it viciously then. All the pent up rage at that time went into this single act of violence, at the outrage that Govart had dared to touch him, that anyone had dared to touch him. Laurent thought that his uncle would seek revenge for this one act but instead his uncle did nothing. It was the first odd reaction that made Laurent realise something else was going on.

Minutes or seconds passed. Laurent, dizzy with pain, didn’t know. Time had become a fluid thing, counted in the drops of blood that dripped down the ends of his soaked sleeve. Laurent was hunched over, his face tucked to his chest, as he blinked rapidly and attempted to clear his vision of the dark spots that swam in and out of focus. From his vantage, he could see Govart’s knife stuck in his shoulder, buried just an inch or two from the hilt, altogether a strange sight that almost didn’t register in the moment. A string of swearing sounded from Govart that Laurent didn't hear in the blaze of pain, as the knife was pulled out roughly from his shoulder and struck again. This time Laurent couldn't stop the sound he made, muffled behind a hand that had come up to clamp tight against his mouth. The only thought he repeated to himself was, _at least a shoulder wound will heal, at least a shoulder wound will heal..._

When Laurent could concentrate again, he could hear the two men arguing. 

"That's enough, we should grab him and go." 

"You're not the one in charge here, so you shut your mouth." Govart said.

"For gods sake, you're going to get us caught!" 

The grip restraining him was loosened now that he was obviously injured and slouching unsteadily, which meant that it was as good an opportunity he was likely to get before the blood loss would get to him. Laurent let himself breathe twice, steeling himself against the pain that was going to come, and then he reeled the back of his head hard. He felt the blow connect with a satisfying thud. Then, with a determination that only came from the will of one desperate to survive, he pulled the syringe out of his pocket, flicked the safety catch, and aimed it at Govart’s neck. There was only one chance, it had to be just right, and Laurent put all his focus into it.

Chalis was stronger when injected rather than consumed, which Laurent knew in theory and felt an immense relief to confirm in practice. Govart got in a few hits before his arms weakened and he stumbed backwards. He landed sideways, sprawled out, limbs twitching convulsively. The other thug had regained enough of his wits to attempt to restrain Laurent by grabbing his shoulders in a rear bear hug. Adrenaline coursing through his body, Laurent reacted by yanking the knife out of his shoulder, and aiming a precise backward hit, through the gap between his elbow and ribs, and straight to the man’s stomach.

After that, he scrambled to the opposite wall, turned around, and leaned against it heavily, feeling it to be a more defensible position. Across from him, the nameless thug's eyes widened in surprise and fear as he stared at the blood rapidly pooling at his belly. The wound was not deep because of the poor angle at which Laurent had struck. 

Laurent gasped out, "Stomach wounds bleed out faster than shoulder wounds." 

It worked. The man chose to save himself, stumbling away from Laurent instead of striking back, and Laurent breathed a sigh of relief.

It was hilarious really, that the weapon that saved him came from Aimeric, who probably once planned to land him in exactly this same situation. The weapon he wouldn’t have if he didn’t call Aimeric just the other day, or if Aimeric did not feel so indebted to him as to offer him a protection that he could have kept for himself. It felt as if he had tread through the events of his life like one inevitable thing following another, taking him round and round the same places, except this time he actually, for once in his life, got lucky. It was a surreal sort of feeling. That, or it was the blood loss getting to him. An odd sort of laugh forced its way out of Laurent, which he had to stifle because it made him hurt quite a bit. 

Govart lay mostly unconscious on the ground now, with only his fingers twitching weakly. There was no sign of the men that Govart had promised were guarding the area, though Laurent kept upright in case he had to defend himself, though any kind of defence he could achieve was bound to be laughable at this point. Laurent brought up one hand up to brace his left shoulder. With his other hand, also blood-slicked, he pulled out his mobile phone and checked his location. He held it to his ear, at about the same time that he saw two figures running towards him. It took a few seconds for the panic to give way relief.

“Damen,” He said, softly against the phone, watching Damen make his way towards him.

“ _Laurent_.” Damen sounded breathless and strangled, agitation mixed with relief. Laurent closed his eyes a little. It was so, so good, to hear Damen’s voice. Damen’s hands were gripping him and touching his face, telling him to wake up and not go to sleep. Damen, anxiously saying over and over, "Oh my god, Laurent." He didn’t know when he went from standing to lying half on the ground and half in Damen's arms, feeling the uneven pavement stones digging into the back of his palm. 

“Is it… r-recorded?” Laurent said, his words slurring. 

“ _What?_ ” Damen said.

“Phone…call.”

“What?” Damen said, bewildered, and then it clicked, “Yes, yes...” The work phones automatically recorded phone calls, as most of the calls Damen made were trades and a verbal confirmation was all that was needed to sign in a deal. That was why phone calls were recorded, in case anyone disputed a deal.

“Good…” Laurent said.

Vannes was there, with a mobile phone against her ear, saying something about an ambulance. Laurent’s vision was starting to blur, but all he could think of was how strange it was to have his past collide with his work life. That was his manager calling for an ambulance for him, looking down at him with panicked eyes.

“No doctor.” Laurent said to Damen, forcefully grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “I don’t trust...” 

“Laurent, you need to stop moving.” Damen said worriedly, helplessly. "I'll take care of everything for you. Laurent, look at me." Both his hands were on Laurent’s shoulder, and he had taken off his jacket, pressing it against Laurent’s wound to stem the flow. A fresh wave of pain ran over him and Laurent shut his eyes to it.

“Laurent! Don’t! Laurent, open your eyes!” 

Fingers pressed against his face. Damen was saying something. Laurent tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t work, one of the few times he simply could not bring his body to do his will.

“Give it to Arnold. He knows what to do.” He tried to say, but the words that actually left his lips were likely more garbled than that. Everything faded to black then. The last thing Laurent heard was Damen’s voice, calling his name over and over again.

***

Laurent dreamt. 

In the dream, he was walking up a steep sandy slope, a beach trail maybe, judging by the faint smell of the ocean in the air. Thick green foliage to each side of the path obscured his view, leaving the only way forwards or backwards. It could have been a maze except that the path was mostly straight. Laurent had to concentrate hard too, had to watch where he put his foot, as the ground was rugged and uneven under him, gnarled tree roots sometimes straying across the path ready to trip the unwary traveller. Laurent watched the ground, and watched the pair of shoes in front of him, putting one foot after another into each sandy footprint, as they led him forwards.

It went on like that endlessly. His thighs were starting to ache with the strain, and the moments of inattention caused him to almost trip a few times. And then suddenly, realisation struck. Laurent couldn't understand how it was that he did not see what was right in front of him.

“Auguste!” He said, and lifted his eyes up, taking them off the ground.

Auguste stopped and turned around. He still had that boyish face, just with a few more lines on his forehead. His hair was a wavy light brown and longer than Laurent remembered. Or perhaps Laurent had forgotten. Laurent stopped too. The scenery changed. They were in a familiar place now, a local park, one that the two of them had frequented as kids on countless occasions where their parents had sat on the park bench leaving them to play on their own. It was a wide grassy area, with a pond somewhere off to the side. Laurent especially liked feeding the ducks there.

“I didn’t see you.” Laurent said in open wonder, as he stepped closer and took in Auguste’s form, his ready smile and the way his eyes lit up and looked at Laurent as if he was the brightest thing in his life. 

“No,” Auguste said, laughing. 

“Are you real?” Laurent whispered, unbelieving. “Never mind.” He said, “I don’t mind if you’re not real. I missed you so much.” 

“You still talk in circles, little brother.” Auguste was smiling, ruffling his hair in the way that used to annoy him. “You should stop walking in circles too.” He said it teasingly, like it was part of their regular banter. It was the sort of thing Auguste would say.

"I can't do this without you. I can't." There was a part of Laurent that always remained Auguste's little brother, childish and wide-eyed, that in his waking moments he would have hated, would have banished and suppressed. But perhaps it was that Auguste was the only person Laurent would let himself be this way with. Laurent said softly, "Please, can I have you back?"

"Oh Laurent," Auguste gave him a look of fondness, hands coming up to place steady upon Laurent's shoulders, "You always have me." 

And then the pain came. His left side was on fire. He couldn’t move any of his limbs which sent him into a panic. There was indistinct talking that he tried to make sense of but it just sounded like gibberish to him. There was a sound like billiard balls coming together and then ricocheting off in different directions, except instead of the sounds dying away, they echoed and echoed as if in a cave. The darkness swallowed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just about the time I posted the last chapter, I have managed to move cities for a new job, all in a hurry that I didn’t get to have any electricity at first, and amidst the lockdown (Note to self: Maybe try not to move cities during a pandemic). So, no leaving the house for 14 days. I had whatever I brought with me for 3 weeks - all the cutlery I had was 1 spoon, 1 fork, 1 knife and 1 cup. Definitely no kettle. A lot of tin food and instant food. About 20 days of dog food for my dog (thank god my stuff arrived in time). I had amazing strangers that helped with little things, and I also had friends that either didn’t reply or declined to help. And then of course on the 4th day, a very large cockroach decided to wander in from the yard and both my dog and I jumped a mile. I thought, this stuff fucking belongs in a story not real life! 
> 
> Anyway, all good now, I’m doing my best to finish this story! Thanks for sticking with it :)


	18. Chapter 18

Damen felt somewhere between being pinned down by a heavy weight and being strung up and stretched thin. His nerves were all wound around and twisted up in a knot, and breathing had at some point become difficult, even stringing together words seem difficult. His patience had all but vanished, as he argued with every nurse that tried to separate him from Laurent “No – _just… NO!_ ” He glared at them all, barely even hearing what they tried to tell him. If Laurent didn’t trust hospitals, then Damen was determined to stay by his side, to protect him and never let whatever fears he had come to pass. Nik, Damen thought in desperation as he snatched his wrist away from another nurse, could probably have talked his way through calmly and rationally. It was his common-sense nature honed by years of experience as a Sales professional. Luckily after the third attempt, either Damen managed to get his message across or the head surgeon took pity on him and decided to let him stay. Perhaps they decided it wasn't worth having to get Security to drag him away, which was just as well, as Damen was agitated enough to want to hit something – a thoroughly bad idea. 

The silence in the emergency ward was punctuated by the head surgeon speaking every so often and the harsh clattering whenever a metal instrument was dropped into a tray. Damen noticed all the little things. The bandage that the paramedics had first put on Laurent, unwrapped and dumped unceremoniously on a trolley, the ends of it red and dangling off the side. The neat array of shiny stainless steel tools laid out on teal green gauze and organised by size and type. Laurent's left cheek a distinct pattern of blue and purple, red where the skin has broken. Laurent's eyes remaining closed throughout it all as if no sound could awaken him. The doctors' conversation generally went past his head, for they spoke in all sorts of short speak that only they themselves seem to understand, but he recognised the moment the danger passed as the machine beeped away Laurent's vital signs in a steady regular fashion. One of the nurses even looked up at him and smiled from behind the surgical mask. He could see it in her eyes. She had been the one that fitted him with the surgical gown, mask, gloves and cap, as soon as the head surgeon allowed him to stay. 

The aftermath was chaotic. A different doctor asked for the second time if Damen was family, and Damen felt an irrational anger rise up in him. _Do I look like I am not family?_ But the anger was more due to the fact that he wasn’t sure, and the last thing he wanted was Laurent’s uncle to turn up and mess with him. The doctor seemed to accept it – thankfully – and he left to get more paperwork while the head surgeon approached Damen. He pulled the cap off his head revealing a head of greying curly hair as he filled Damen in on Laurent's condition. Laurent was fine, the wound was messy but clean. He had needed surgery to repair the muscle. There was a mild concussion but nothing that additional rest won't cure. He had a broken rib that could have been dangerous but wasn't. Laurent was lucky. Then, he cast a look back at Laurent and paused before he said, "It is good that he has family now." Damen dismissed the odd phrasing, and took it to mean it was good Laurent had someone with him at the hospital.

A steady stream of people turned up after that. Two policemen arrived not long after Laurent was wheeled into a private ward. Damen grew suspicious when he was asked to head to the nearest station, as one of them said it was just next to the hospital and convenient. Just as Damen was about to refuse, the same doctor who had been lingering nearby stepped in and chided them, "Let the patient be with his family. Surely you can record their statements after the patient wakes?" 

At that, one of them asked, "When would that be, Doctor?" 

"We’re not certain when the anaesthetic will wear off, but likely around two days." 

After that they thanked the doctor, hung around for a bit, but found Damen’s vague answers mostly unsatisfactory so they left.

Nicaise and Aimeric, accompanied with an unknown man, were the first to arrive, or perhaps had been there for a while from the way they stood near the entrance of the ward. Caught up in his focus on Laurent, it was a shock to look up and see them. It was a shock to see Aimeric looking _like that_. Gone was the cheerful, all smiles kid that practically worshipped Laurent back then, even if false, and instead Aimeric looked too thin in an already small shirt, dark shadows pooling under his eyes and new lines etched in his forehead. Nicaise was a mirror of Aimeric, directly opposing in certain ways and a replica in others. The last time he had met Nicaise was at Christmas, where the boy had at least seemed fairly relaxed by the end of the night. 

It was in their expressions that they were the most twinned, of age reflecting beyond their respective years mixed with a deep weariness. While Aimeric shuffled in his steps and seemed slow to respond, Nicaise appeared agitated and kept shifting on his feet on the spot. In his hand were a few marbles that he rolled together with his fingers, making a clicking noise that sounded loud in the quiet hospital ward. The man that Damen didn’t recognise was Aimeric's partner whom he introduced as Sasha; Only in the single brief moment where Aimeric glanced towards Sasha, and the man, quiet and serene, nodded back at him, did Aimeric's eyes take on a bit of brightness. Damen did not have the heart to feel angry towards him for his betrayal of Laurent anymore. The trio settled at seats lining the small room, while Damen sat closest to Laurent at his bedside. Before Damen had a chance to speak with them, Nik arrived.

"I'll get you a change of clothes." were the first words Nik greeted Damen with, after looking him up and down and peering at him. 

Damen only then realised what he must look like, his jacket lost somewhere, and still wearing the shirt with Laurent's blood all over. He wanted, ridiculously, to contradict Nik, that his clothes were the last thing he cared about, but it seemed pointless to mention. Nik then turned and stared at Aimeric, whom he recognised, “Hey,” He said with a confused frown, and then quickly dismissed it as one of the many things he didn’t understand was going on. Nicaise ignored him entirely. 

"How is he?" Nik asked.

"I should have been there." Damen said, drawing out a ragged breath, raising anguished eyes to Nik. "I don't know what I would do if...we talked about it last night, I should have insisted…" It was too hard to finish that train of thought. Instead, Damen pursed his lips together and met Nik's eyes. His best friend nodded understandingly. 

And then he said softly, "He’s the real deal, isn’t he?" 

Nik had watched Damen move on easily from one superficial relationship to another, and never before seen Damen this way in all the years he had known him. Then again, none of Damen’s dates ever landed themselves in hospital like this or was the target of a vicious attack.

“I always think every one of them is the real thing, but I’ve never felt this way before.” Damen said in a rare moment of introspection.

“Then stay and protect him as I know you wish. You know I’ll help with whatever you need.” Nik replied. “What did the doctor say?”

Nik’s presence helped to pull Damen away from his previous thoughts. "He's fine," Damen said, "The doctor said Laurent is very tough. He got to the hospital in time and didn't lose too much blood. Fought off his attacker." Damen could feel both Aimeric and Nicaise listening intently, even though their gazes were arranged elsewhere. 

"They caught him." Nik said. 

"Did they? I didn't see anything. Only one ambulance came, so when they saw he was out cold, they called another one. Vannes stayed behind to talk to the police."

"Yeah, she told us. Vannes is probably still at the station. She didn't want to bother you in case... well..." Nik trailed off. "Anyway, I will go now and get you a few things. For Laurent as well. Jord will help me. Everyone's very worried. I'll tell them Laurent is doing ok, shall I?" 

"Yeah," Damen said, "Thanks." And then, "Wait - there is one thing. Laurent - " Damen glanced once at the entrance to the ward - "Laurent recorded the conversation between his attacker. I need you to get Arnold for me.” Damen met Nicaise’s eyes as the boy jerked his head up.

“He - what? Who’s Arnold?” And so Damen turned back to Nik, and explained all of his last conversation with Laurent. Laurent, who had a plan, or more than one plan, and Damen was going to continue whatever he had started. 

It was decided that Nik would go to Damen’s house and pack some clothes and toiletries for him and Laurent, and Pallas - Nik quickly made a call to the guys – who was closer to Laurent’s apartment would sought out Arnold. After that Nik made to leave, but not before Damen called out gravely, "Nik - take care of yourself."

"I will. Stay safe,” He glanced around at the others, including them in the last statement. “I'll be back soon." He said to Damen.

Damen had a moment of reprieve where he could simply sit down and hold on to Laurent’s hand as he liked, to watch Laurent’s face for any movement, even as he had been told that the anesthetic wouldn’t wear off for at least another 24 hours. He saw now that most of the injuries were on Laurent's left side, probably because his attacker had been right-handed. There was a deep bruise that just missed Laurent's left eye; it had swelled up quite a bit and would likely impact Laurent's vision. Under the clouded oxygen mask, Laurent’s lips were red and puffy, the same lips he had dropped a kiss on that very morning as he left his apartment. Damen found himself wavering between an agitation that made him want to punch something and tenderly running his palm over Laurent’s uninjured hand. In the end he opted for the latter, feeling the action to be somewhat calming.

In the silence that followed, Sasha very pragmatically announced that he was going to get some food, and asked if anyone else would like anything. Damen declined, his stomach still feeling unsettled and most likely unable to take in anything, while Aimeric instructed him to get something for himself and Nicaise, who by then had finally settled himself down in the seats instead of pacing around. He sat with his arms braced on his knees and ignored Aimeric. It was silence again for a short while before Damen decided to venture into neutral topics. 

"How did you meet Sasha?" He asked Aimeric, who seemed to fidget nervously in his seat before answering, "He saved me. He saw me being... taken..." Aimeric seemed to curl in on himself before he shook himself out of it. "We became friends." He said haltingly, looking up again, a faint smile on his lips. "Sasha isn't... he's just so straightforward and honest. He's happy with the simple pleasures in life, he's happy fixing things that are broken, building windows, painting…” There was a small smile on Aimeric’s face. “He was one of the men working on the renovation at the block I lived in. That's how I met him." 

"That sounds very nice." Damen said, trying for an encouraging smile. 

"I dragged him into this..." Aimeric said, casting his eyes downwards again. 

"I'm sure Sasha doesn't think of it like that." Damen said, at once wondering if Laurent felt the same way about Damen. His chest ached at that.

And then in a small voice, Aimeric said, "Do you think Laurent will ever forgive me?" 

"Do you think you can forgive yourself?" Damen asked instead.

"I -" Aimeric began, but stopped when the door swung open. 

Vannes entered with Makedon in tow, both of them speaking at once in their naturally loud voices. 

"Damen!" Vannes exclaimed, "Oh good we found you. We walked into the wrong ward at first." 

At the same time, Makedon's eyes widened at Laurent's face, "Oh...it is.. that is.." - he turned to Vannes accusingly, "You didn't say he got bashed up in the face too." 

Vannes gave him an indignant look, "I was a little worried about the fact that he might be bleeding within an inch of his life?" 

"This is Laurent's family?" Makedon inquired as he glanced at Aimeric and Nicaise, lingering at Aimeric for a little. Neither of them replied him and Aimeric curled in on himself further. Damen quickly changed the topic. 

"Is it alright for all of you to have left work?

Makedon was about to speak when Vannes interrupted, "Of course, leave everything to us. Don't worry about anything at all at work." There was no arguing with Vannes when she spoke like that.

"Yes, yes, that's right.” Makedon said, “Ah you know, sometimes there will always be people that are sticklers at the office. Pretty average day anyway, nothing interesting happening in the market." Later on, Damen found out that one of the senior managers had an absolute fit on finding that the entire team was not in the office. Some very terse phone calls had been exchanged with Makedon. Damen realised with a twinge of guilt then that he hadn’t been keeping track of notifications on his mobile, hadn’t connected the fact that it was a warm day in February and even small events in the electricity market could impact their portfolio. He couldn’t remember the last time anything had distracted him like this. 

“It is good that his attacker is caught.” Makedon said. “People like that ought to rot in jail. I suppose Laurent happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? And he kept enough of his wits to call you.” He added fondly, “Impressive young man, by all rounds.” 

Seated at the wall opposite to Damen, Nicaise was glaring daggers at Makedon’s back. “Actually...” Damen said. “Laurent was targeted.”

Damen didn't mean to blurt out the truth, or at least some of it. It wasn't his story to tell, but it was partly spurred on my Nicaise’s reaction and partly that having done so much for Laurent, Makedon and Vannes deserved the truth. He described the bare bones of Laurent’s feud with his uncle, and his attempts to escape him. Out of concern for Aimeric who was in the same room and listening, Damen glossed over the poisoning attempting without giving away details. He was met with widened eyes and shocked expressions, and he watched as understanding slowly settled in. Perhaps they had begun connecting the dots over Laurent's general eccentricity and reclusiveness. 

"It must have been so hard to have to deal with this by himself," Vannes said then, laying a hand on Laurent's shoulder. "I can't imagine what it is like at all. None of us could have guessed." 

Makedon opened his mouth and then closed it, frowning. “I don’t understand. How can his parents let that happen?” 

“He is the only one in his family… that is still alive.” Damen said, and at Makedon’s utter look of confusion, he added, “I didn’t know that at first too.” 

After all the discussion had been had, a brief moment of silence ensued, and all of them looked down at Laurent who lay asleep still, his breathing soft and steady. After making Damen promise to call them if they needed anything, the two of them said their goodbyes and left. 

Nik, Jord and Pallas arrived separately through the evening, and by then the day’s exhaustion was starting to catch up to Damen. He started to appreciate having a clean shirt to wear, as well as the pie and pastries Nik had forced on all of them. Close to 9pm, Arnold turned up after his security work shift. If Damen had thought it strange that Laurent asked for Arnold, then he knew why now. It turned out that Laurent had previously spoken to Arnold about arranging a meeting with his contacts in the police force, his personal friends that he trusted with his own life. 

When Damen hesitated on speaking, Arnold said, “I know you feel like you cannot trust anyone, and I understand that. He didn’t at first too,” He indicated Laurent. “It is partly why I retired to work the security shift there. Those apartments are similar to safe houses and have always had connections to the Police. Every person given access is vetted carefully by the owner.”

Damen thought about how meticulous Arnold has always been about the security of the building, how he had prioritised Laurent’s safety and was initially suspicious of Damen. Hoping it was what Laurent intended, Damen handed over a copy of the phone recording, the one where Govart could be heard threatening Laurent. 

“You have my private number, so don’t hesitate to call me for anything,” were Arnold’s parting words. 

***

It was late into the second evening that Laurent eventually awoke, groggily shifting about, his fingers gripping into Damen’s hand. 

“Laurent!” Damen called out, eagerly leaning over, lacing his fingers with Laurent’s hand as he leaned over and watched his face anxiously. Nicaise sprang up and went over to Laurent’s other side. Laurent groaned and then opened his eyes slowly, blinking rapidly. He made an indecipherable sound as he attempted with his good arm to push off the oxygen mask. Damen quickly moved to help, bringing the mask down below his chin. 

“Damen?” Laurent said, blinking several times, and glancing around, “Where...?” 

“Laurent,” Damen said, swallowing down a flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He threaded his fingers through Laurent’s hair tenderly, “You're at the hospital. How are you feeling? I knew I should have been there with you... I'm sorry...” 

“Damen,” Laurent only said, his voice slightly hoarse. Damen poured a cup of water for Laurent, who drank it greedily.

Noticing for the first time the teenager that had crowded on to his other side, Laurent said, “Nicaise, you're alright!” There was relieved surprise in his eyes and while he may have meant a more jubilant exclamation, his voice sounded more like a croaky squeak.

Nicaise stared blankly for a moment, “I... You...” And then he flung himself onto Laurent’s belly, sobs tearing through his body. Damen caught a wince from Laurent, before he relaxed his features. 

“Not your fault....it’s alright.” Laurent said, attempting to lift his good arm. 

Nicaise babbled on incoherently, speaking words that Damen couldn’t hear or didn’t understand, but somehow Laurent did. “How could you…” He said, “I didn’t mean to… he _promised_ …”

Laurent said, “I know, but it would have put you in danger.” 

“I don't... need your help.” Nicaise said indignantly, but the words had little bite with his chest still heaving. Between gasps, he said, “I’ve... got it... th- the evidence... the thing... you th- thought he had.” Nicaise took a deep breath and then wiped his sleeve over his face messily. 

“What?” Laurent said, his eyes widened as he tried to sit up, and then grunted in pain. Nicaise reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder. “It’s... it’s all the boys.” They stared at each other, as Damen felt a sickening feeling start in his stomach. He didn’t want to know the contents of the folder. Both of them flinched when the door opened and a nurse appeared followed by Aimeric and Sasha. Nicaise backed away, and the folder disappeared nimbly into his jacket again. 

She checked on Laurent as she did in the morning, and cheerfully proclaimed him healthy and well. She explained the wound that Laurent had sustained as well as the painkillers that were in the IV fluid, after which Laurent interrupted abruptly with a wave of his hand. “I want to leave now.” Damen winced, recognising the stubborn way he had set his jaw. Truthfully he had expected this, though he hoped it wouldn’t come up so soon. The nurse, unable to outtalk Laurent, said she would call the doctor over. 

“Dr. Paschal,” Laurent whispered in recognition when the doctor came in.

“Laurent,” The doctor frowned, sitting himself at the seat beside him, as if he was a relative here for a visit instead of a doctor. Damen could do nothing but watch, a million questions swirling in his head. There were still many things about Laurent that he did not know. The doctor didn’t seem to say more, and neither did Laurent. 

“You can go home,” The doctor said reluctantly, "if there is someone to take care of you,” he glanced up and held Damen’s gaze, who in turn nodded seriously. “But you will let me check in on you tomorrow night.” He said this looking between Laurent and Damen. Laurent said yes to that, so Damen thanked him. 

"I will get you the paperwork, and we will need to get you some things as well." With that, Dr. Paschal left. 

Laurent looked at Damen and said, "Help me sit up." It was painful but Laurent set his mouth in a thin line and exerted what little strength he could with Damen's strong arms supporting him. The tension in the room went up a notch as Laurent's cast eyes on Aimeric and Sasha.

"Laurent," Aimeric greeted carefully. "This is Sasha my partner."

Before Laurent could speak, Nicaise interjected softly by his side, "I know you're mad at him, but he helped me."

There was a long silence. Damen watched as wariness and confusion warred on Laurent’s face, and then Laurent seemed to come to a decision. He gazed steadily at Aimeric and said, "I'm not mad." Then, looking towards Damen with a small smile, and squeezing his fingers gently, he said, "I'm happy to be alive." It was just a single moment where their eyes met, but Damen felt like it meant the world to him. 

After that, Damen drove the lot of them to Laurent’s apartment. Laurent had reasoned that it was better that they all stuck together, so that there was less chance of his uncle threatening either one of them. Evidently it must have been what Aimeric was thinking as well from his quick agreement. 

Nicaise’s evidence was eventually handed over to Arnold, but not before Laurent insisted on copies being made of it. It incriminated Laurent’s uncle directly, and was the evidence that Govart held over him. Laurent said it would keep him in jail for a very long time. 

“You did well,” Laurent later said to Nicaise, insisting on seeing Nicaise comfortably set up the room he had prepared for him, even when he could barely walk. 

“Rest now,” Laurent said staring down at him. 

“So should you.” Nicaise retorted tiredly. Laurent grinned and then motioned for Damen to help him back. The painkillers were wearing off which made him more alert but also more in pain. 

Aimeric and Sasha were temporarily set up in the living area, their sleeping area a pile of blankets that Nik and Jord had dropped off. If they minded the cramped quarters and lack of privacy, then they took it in stride and said nothing at all. 

Finally, after having sorted everything out, it was just Laurent and Damen lying next to each other in the same small single bed, Damen on his side trying not to bump into Laurent, and Laurent’s head turned towards him, both of them just looking at each other. Damen’s chest was overflowing with some emotion he could not name. So much had happened. 

Damen said, “I almost lost you.”

Laurent gave him a rueful smile. “I almost lost me too.”

Damen huffed, “It’s not funny.”

“You smiled.” And then, with eyes full of love and trust. "You found me…”

Damen thought of all the things he had wanted to ask Laurent, _why didn’t you tell me? What happened?_ But then found he didn’t care about any of it anymore. 

“I would tear through the world to find you.” He whispered, knowing it was ridiculous. 

“I believe you.” Laurent whispered back. 

The kiss then was gentle, just a tiny brush of lips as Damen feared hurting Laurent further, followed by light touches and soft sighs, Damen rising himself up on one elbow and leaning over Laurent, using two gentle fingers to trace the side of his head. Damen felt whole again. The kiss was like returning to the tonic note at the end of a chord progression, of coming home to a universe that made sense again. Damen fell asleep breathing in Laurent's familiar scent and feeling his smooth silky hair tickle against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go....!


	19. Chapter 19

“Oh would you - it’s nothing you haven’t seen!” Laurent snapped irritably.

“Sorry,” Damen said hesitantly. “Should I just – take this all off?” His fingers touched the ends of the large loose shirt that Laurent wore. 

“If you’re not, then I am.” Laurent warned, his expression turning into one of determination as he prepared to sit up himself. It prompted Damen to immediately place a hand at his shoulder. “Let me, Laurent.” 

They had settled on this after Dr. Paschal forbid Laurent to bathe so as not to disturb his wound. Even if he had allowed it, Laurent knew he didn’t have the strength to stay standing for more than a short while. He barely stayed awake for a few hours at a time. When the doctor suggested that there were nurses at the hospital that could help him, Laurent firmly declined. It was bad enough that he had been in the hospital, unconscious and unable to protect himself, with god knows what sort of people touching him. The last thing he wanted was another stranger handling him while he was conscious. In the end, after sleeping through most of his first day at home, he had resigned to the fact that he had to have some level of help even for the simplest tasks. 

“Attend me,” He said to Damen as haughtily as he could manage, and Damen laughed. The awkwardness between them eased away leaving a comfort that had been slowly burgeoning between them, aided and accelerated by all they had been through together. Damen’s fingers moved to unbutton Laurent’s shirt from the top. He worked through it quickly, his fingers going over the small round buttons carefully, doing his best not to disturb any of Laurent’s wounds. Laurent didn’t make a sound, but Damen noticed with a pang each time he tensed up or jerked away. Damen murmured apologies, promising to be quick, as he sponged a wet cloth over Laurent’s skin and then alternated with a dry one. He wiped down Laurent’s front, his arms, his hands, all the way to his fingers, making sure he was thorough. There was an intimacy to this that wasn’t sensual. He knew that if their places had been exchanged, Laurent would do the same for him too. Laurent gave him a tight smile and attempted to convey that he was alright. 

“Thank you.” Laurent exhaled softly when Damen had finished, his fingers lightly ghosting across Damen’s wrist where it rested on the mattress. 

"Of course, anything for you," Damen said. “How are you feeling? Are you sure you don’t want the painkillers?” 

Laurent shook his head. “They put me to sleep, and I wake up disorientated.” 

“You need the sleep.” Damen insisted. 

“I’m fine. Feeling better.” Laurent insisted. “I’m happy that we’re going to get him. Everything turned out better than I expected.” 

“Not everything.” Damen said grimly. 

Laurent yawned, too tired to protest and so decided to redirect their conversation elsewhere. “It seems lately that my apartment more so resembles a zoo.” Laurent said, “How is everyone?” 

Damen hummed, his fingers lightly stroking the ends of Laurent’s hair. “You've probably heard Nicaise and Aimeric yelling at each other, but they seem to just as easily go back to being on speaking terms.”

“If Nicaise isn’t irritating somebody, I would be worried.” Laurent said.

“It’s better now that they have something to do. Since yesterday, they’ve been working through on a 2000-piece puzzle, you should see – ”

“I don’t have a jigsaw puzzle.” Laurent interrupted. 

“Oh yeah that, Jord brought over a couple things.” 

“Right, Jord.” Laurent said, and thought immediately that the bare bones of his apartment was surely in no fit state to entertain any guests. He will have to thank Jord later.

Damen said, “I'll show it to you later. It is natural I suppose, with all of us being confined here and stepping on each other’s toes. Sasha has turned out to be quite a good cook. He’s easy-going, helpful. I like him. He seems to be taking this all in stride. What else? Oh, Nicaise likes his room. I thought you would be happy about that. He didn’t say anything bad about it, so I’m pretty sure that means he likes it.”

Laurent smiled, “Nicaise is used to much more luxury than this. But he might like having a space he could call his own. It is… important. And Aimeric?”

“Aimeric and Sasha are set up by the window on a pile of blankets – Jord –” He explained when Laurent raised an inquiring eyebrow. “ - It can’t be that comfortable but neither of them are complaining. Also, everyone at work is worried about you.”

“You should go back in the office. I’m fine.” Laurent said, which Damen thought he most certainly was not. 

Damen said instead, “Nothing much is happening in the office anyway. The merger happened, we moved to the new office. And of course, nothing works there. Pallas plugged in his laptop the other day, and it shut down the power of a whole section of the office.” Laurent smiled at that. Damen didn’t say that he was working some sort of reduced hours at the moment, an arrangement that Makedon and Vannes had worked out for him, just so that he could be available for anything Laurent needed.

“It will be a big change.” Laurent mused and Damen nodded. It was hard to see what the future would look like for their company. Moving to a new office may have felt strange, but more changes would be on their way. And when the phase had passed, the business model, the processes, and systems - hopefully not the people - may bear little semblance to what they had before. Damen wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Alright, I feel better now. Help me dress.” Laurent said. 

Damen chuckled at the imperious tone, “Yes, your highness.”

***

The next days blurred into one another. Laurent slept a lot and slowly recovered his strength. There was a new domesticity in their relationship. Damen threw himself into it, eager, and Laurent hesitantly surrendered his need to always be in control, finding that it was not as uncomfortable as he had expected. They simply slipped into this easy routine, conversing about mundane household matters that had to be organised, as well as more serious issues, such as planning and comparing their responses to the police, discussing who they were willing to trust and who they weren’t. It was not smooth or easy from then on, as the webs of corruption Laurent's uncle had spun ran deep. One wrong move could still be dangerous. 

The odd group of them in the apartment chugged along as best as they could, shared history and circumstance bringing them together rather than any real bond. But simply being stuck with each other did put some progress on that front. One time Laurent awoke to find Nicaise hunched over asleep with his cheek nestled against Laurent’s side. A discarded ink pen lay beside his cheek and his entire right arm was covered in smiley faces. Laurent sincerely hoped it was water-based ink.

“Seriously?” He said.

Nicaise raised his head with a jolt. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“I am going to get you back for this.” Laurent grumbled. 

“Damen said to watch you, and I got bored.” Nicaise shrugged. It was news to Laurent that Nicaise would actually listen to Damen, if anyone at all, which meant he must like Damen to some extent. He filed away that information for later.

“Oh! I’m supposed to bring you food if you’re awake. Wait here.” The boy scrambled up and off. 

“As if I can go anywhere.” Laurent mumbled to himself. The prospect of food made his mouth water. He checked his watch – 3:30 in the afternoon. It had stopped mattering what time it was. Laurent’s days were spent sleeping, waking, eating, doing his best to stay awake to think and plan, and then more sleeping again. 

Nicaise returned with soup, helped Laurent sit up, and Laurent ate it all with his good arm. The pain was constant and every accidental movement multiplied it ten-fold. 

It was also the first time opportunity he had to speak to Nicaise, excluding when Nicaise had uncharacteristically broke down at the hospital. So much of the time he behaved almost like an adult that it was hard to remember he was in fact still very young. Laurent already had plausible guesses for what happened, and he didn’t want to push Nicaise to talk about the fateful events that led to him being ambushed. But Nicaise told him all. 

Somehow his uncle had known Nicaise was leaving and confiscated his mobile phone. He lied to Nicaise, promising that he only wanted to talk to Laurent, and made it look like he had no objections about Nicaise leaving. 

Nicaise thought that Laurent would work out what was happening and would not show up, and so he had focused on searching Govart’s room while he was gone. When he had chanced upon the folder with details of the young boys that Govart had procured for Uncle, it finally hit home that there was nothing special about him, there never was. Suddenly it clicked in just how much danger he was in. Nicaise fled. Unable to go to Laurent in case he ran into Govart, he sought out Aimeric instead. 

“You were an idiot.” Nicaise said then, glaring at Laurent. 

Laurent nodded solemnly, “I suppose I was.” Their eyes met and it was Nicaise who looked away first.

“What’s going to happen now?” Nicaise said dully. One of his thumbs was hooked onto his other hand, where he repeatedly rubbed a spot on his knuckle. 

“He will be locked up for a long time, and he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.” Laurent said. The words should have been said with more victory, but Laurent could only think of how exhausted he was. The damage had already been done, and sending his uncle to prison cannot undo any of it. Not for Laurent, or Nicaise, or Aimeric. It wasn't for them, it was for the ones who never should have gone through what they did.

“I don’t want – I don’t –” Nicaise began, and then cast his eyes down, suddenly interested in a pattern on the sheets.

“It’s okay, I know.” Laurent said. They didn’t talk anymore after that.

Laurent also spoke to Aimeric, just the two of them. Aimeric sat on the floor. He apologised again, and also thanked Laurent for allowing him and Sasha to stay. He was particularly grateful to Laurent for calling in the first place. But Laurent didn’t see what else he was suppose to do, throw him out and watch Uncle exact revenge on him, as he was sure he would? In the end it had been the syringe of Chalis that Aimeric had given to him that helped him survive. Things could have gone much worse without it. His feelings towards Aimeric were complicated. Laurent opted for honesty. “If you hadn’t given me the syringe that day, I would probably be dead. So, that makes us even now.” He said carefully. 

Aimeric nodded, relief lining his face. “We won’t be any trouble. I will tell the police everything.”

Reluctantly, Laurent added, “You should try to get immunity in exchange for what you tell them. If you haven’t already done so.” He did not help Aimeric only to have Uncle’s minions jump him in jail. Laurent looked away from the gratitude in Aimeric’s eyes, the way he was eager to do anything to make it up to Laurent. Laurent didn’t want to be the recipient of that either. It made him feel awkward and uncomfortable. 

The police proceedings took a long time to resolve, involving Laurent, Aimeric and Nicaise at various times. Arnold’s connections turned out to be free from the corruption associated with Gerald De Vere, and they meticulously pursued every lead Laurent gave them, including the first few times Laurent had tried to go to the police and was rebuffed. The questioning always took a lot out of him and Damen was a constant steady presence, taking care of the essentials and simply being present by his side. During those weeks, Damen spent more time at Laurent’s apartment than his own.

Aimeric and Sasha moved out after a week or so to a different apartment, but still within the same block. They saw each other frequently and conversed about practical matters. With them gone, Damen felt like they finally had some space and privacy. They had a proper bed as well now, instead of Laurent’s single mattress laid on the floor, as Damen decided early on that it was better he did not accidentally touch Laurent in the night. Mindful of Laurent’s injuries, Damen restricted himself to gentle touches and chaste kisses on his forehead.

It was Laurent who decided that he wanted more than just that.

Two weeks after the injury, when Damen had just got into bed, Laurent stirred awake and pressed his lips against his bare shoulder. He was entirely unprepared for the hot flush that went straight to his loins, his mind blanking out when Laurent followed it up with a palm sliding across his chest, his nails dragging along roughly. 

“Laurent,” He groaned, catching Laurent’s hand and guiding his touch over himself, before bringing it to his mouth to kiss it. He was apprehensive of going further until Laurent whispered in the dark, “Touch me,” and then brought Damen’s palm to his own belly, sliding lower and lower until Damen could feel his arousal through the night shirt he wore.

From there on, they slid their hands over each other in desperation, Damen sucking sloppy kisses on Laurent’s neck as he palmed him there over and over again. Laurent gasped and arched into it, rubbing himself against Damen’s hand. 

“ _Oh, Laurent_ ,” Damen’s voice was a strangled whisper as he tried to rein in his own rampant desire. Laurent’s eyes were very dark and his lips were parted as his eyes followed the slide of his hand, until they tugged at Damen’s boxers. Damen made quick work of taking those off, and kicking the blankets further down the end of the bed. He did the same for Laurent, and rucked up his shirt, so that all of Laurent’s lower half was exposed to him. 

“ _Damen_ ,” Laurent said, “ _I need…_ ” He pressed the side of his hip against Damen, as Damen whispered back, “I know, I want you so much.” He took Laurent’s nipple into his mouth as he ran a proprietary hand over Laurent’s thighs, his hips and his chest. If he hadn’t been as careful as he should have been with Laurent’s injuries, then Laurent showed no signs of it, moaning out loud as he pressed the side of his face into the mattress. Kissing Laurent all over like this, Damen wrapped his palm around Laurent’s cock and stroked him. His own arousal was spiking at seeing Laurent give himself over to Damen like this, everything made more intense by many days of refraining himself from touching Laurent unnecessarily. Laurent’s fingertips latched on to Damen’s shoulder as Damen lay on his side in an awkward position, unable to resist putting his other hand on his own cock. It didn’t take long this way, as he stroked them both in tandem, all while Laurent thrust his hips up and exhaled ragged breaths against Damen’s chest. Laurent came first and Damen followed soon after as he pressed himself close and rode out the hot flood of pleasure. His heart was still beating wildly as he looked into Laurent’s face and the tiny smile he saw there made him lean up and press a kiss against Laurent’s lips. 

***

_1 year later…_

As soon as Laurent opened the front door, he was greeted with a most delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen. There were spices, some sort of roasted meat, and the aroma of fresh bread. He followed the fragrance to the kitchen, finding Damen with an apron tossed over his shoulder, bending over and peering into the oven.

Damen twisted around to beam at Laurent. “So?” 

Laurent’s grin was brilliant, which told Damen all he needed to know. He stood up as Laurent closed the distance, pecking him once on the lips. 

“What is with all this food?” Laurent said, with one eyebrow raised. 

“Obviously, we need to celebrate.” Damen said. 

“Obviously? You do realise one usually celebrates only _after_ hearing the good news?” Laurent said, shaking his head. 

“I may have got a little ahead of myself,” Damen said. He shrugged off his apron to one side, and then wrapped his arms around Laurent who responded by pliantly folding himself into Damen’s embrace. Pressing his face into Laurent’s neck, he chanced a quick kiss there, which he knew Laurent was partial to, and then felt somewhat smug when Laurent sucked in a breath abruptly. 

“So how did it go?” Damen asked when they broke apart.

“As I expected.” Laurent replied with a shrug. 

“When do things not go as you expect?” Damen teased.

“Sometimes,” Laurent said. “I wasn’t altogether sure.” Which meant Laurent was probably 90% sure. “The board had to whine a little about it. I’m too young, or I’m not experienced enough. There was always going to be something.”

“You took care of it?”

“Of course,” Laurent scoffed, “The support was unanimous when I brought up the completed prototype I have, which they understood to mean I can sell it to anyone I like.”

“You wouldn’t though.” Damen said pointedly.

“Yeah, but they didn’t know that.” Laurent grinned. 

Damen washed his hands quickly and came back to where Laurent had been leaning on the counter, “Congratulations,” He said smiling, hooking his arms around Laurent’s waist, “CEO of Starburst. You've worked so hard on the prototype.” 

Laurent smiled, but there was melancholy mixed in, “I wish it could have been Auguste. He was… he would have been great.”

“You’re going to be great too.” Damen whispered, and kissed him. Laurent wrapped his arms around him and sighed into the kiss. It was all too soon that they let go of each other, a noise from the kitchen door interrupting them.

“Ugh, are you two going to be all over each other all day?” Nicaise said. Damen let go of Laurent, who turned around in his embrace. His arms were still around Laurent’s waist when Laurent said, “Not all day, just most of it.” 

Nicaise glared at them and then stomped away. Damen saw the question when their eyes met again. “He’s been grumpy since I got home.” Damen said. “You always talk to him better than I do.” 

Damen watched Laurent shrug off his jacket and hang it up by on the coat rack. Laurent paused before heading up the stairs, detouring to pick up their cat, Pickles – a scrappy little thing with mismatched eyes that they had adopted from the shelter – and then went off in search of Nicaise. 

Damen could still taste Laurent on his lips, and he started thinking of how if Nicaise hadn’t come to find them, he would have progressed to kissing Laurent’s neck, or maybe the spot behind his ear. But there would be time for that later, and he knew Nicaise was always going to be a priority for Laurent. He found himself thinking about how their lives had changed within several months. Laurent’s uncle was sentenced to 38 years, which would comprise basically the rest of his life. A number of high up police and other persons were prosecuted as well. It had been all over the media then given the number of connected arrests, causing a huge scandal for Starburst. 

The family home that Laurent grew up in was reverted back to him. Damen thought he might want to move back, but he shook his head, linked his fingers in Damen’s hand and said, “I want a fresh start.” Shining in his eyes was the slightest uncertainty of an unasked question, which touched Damen more than anything he had known. Damen said yes, babbling out a good many other things too, before he could get a hold of that delirious happiness bubbling within him. That was how they ended up moving in together, and of course also with Nicaise. Now they lived in a simple but spacious two-story house overlooking a large garden. Of all the things in Laurent’s family home, he kept the books that his parents had amassed, setting up a community library with them - dedicated to Auguste's memory. What little of Auguste’s things he could find were carefully packed and brought back, the most precious of all was one of the last photographs taken of the two of them. It had been wedged between a book carelessly as a bookmark. They made copies, framed it and now the picture sat on their living room mantle. 

When Damen announced that dinner was ready, Laurent returned with Nicaise, who seemed in a much better mood. Nicaise spent all of dinner chattering away about some TV show that he and Damen had watched together, but that Laurent had not. 

“I don’t watch TV.” Laurent complained. 

“Precisely, that’s why I am telling you.” Nicaise said, clearly articulating his words as if explaining a simple thing to a child. It was hard to argue with that logic. Nicaise had been quick to guess the occasion that warranted the big cook-out from Damen, even though neither of them had specifically told him. 

That night was a clear and cloudless night, a crescent of a moon shining just enough light to watch where you're going. Damen would remember this years later, would remember the way the stars filled up the night sky, the still air and light chill, and the whistling of crickets. He would remember finding Laurent in a grassy spot of their garden, beside the twin rose bushes they had planted together when they had first moved in. 

Laurent had spread out a blanket there and lay with one arm under his head, his legs stretched out, just silently looking into the sky. Damen looked down at him, smiling, and said, "There you are," just as Laurent patted the empty space beside him in a silent invite. That was how Damen ended up in a tranquil moment beside Laurent, the companionable silence broken here and there as they kissed, gentle and unhurried. They talked a little of other things too, exchanging tales of their day, Damen regaling Laurent with the latest happenings from his colleagues – what used to be their colleagues.

“Everyone kind of misses that little office we used to have,” Damen said with a laugh. “We all wanted to get out of there, and I kept tripping over stuff –”

“Yes, we know all about that.” Laurent interrupts with a smile. 

“—Yeah well,” Damen smiles sheepishly. “It turns out being in an open plan office means we can’t really talk to each other as much.” 

“You mean you can’t gossip as much and rant about other people.” Laurent correctly interpreted. “Makedon would find a way though. I can’t see him not ranting about something or other.”

Damen laughs. “You’re right. We have team meetings outside the office sometimes.” 

When the chatter died down, it was just them lying side by side with their faces close together, comfortable and intimate. Then Laurent spoke, "I've been thinking that you're the best thing that happened in my life. I don't think I've told you how much it means to me to have this, to have you and Nicaise here with me in this house. Sometimes I can’t even believe it." 

Damen understood that, or at least the last part. This thing he had with Laurent was a light-filled wondrous thing, something to be cherished, and never to take for granted.

"You make me happy, Damen. You're the one person I trust the most, when I didn't even know I could trust again." Damen felt his heart over brimming with some emotion, maybe love. "I feel very lucky to have you," Laurent whispered.

"You don't see yourself, Laurent. _I_ feel lucky to have you. You're the truest person I've ever met. I love you _so much_ , I never even knew I could feel this way. I still remember you covered in blood. I've never felt so scared before..." 

Laurent blinked and stared at him. It was clear that how he saw himself differed wildly from how Damen saw him. Laurent offered a tentative smile, "It's over now." 

"Yes..." Damen agreed. Laurent stared back up into the night sky, and Damen shadowed his movements. The universe was vast and yet he lay next to the only person that mattered. 

After a moment, Laurent turned to him, and said, “Damen,” bringing Damen out of his reverie. There was a strange light in Laurent’s eyes. 

“Damen, let’s get married.” 

Damen could feel his jaw drop. The last time they had broached this topic, Laurent had made it clear the whole marriage thing wasn’t for him, and besides they were living together now. They were for all purposes, married. 

“I thought you didn’t like the idea.” He heard himself say. 

“The reasons why I felt opposed to it... are still the same. I wish Auguste could be there and he won’t ever be.”

“Felt?”

“Nicaise said something. I’ve been thinking about it differently now, and I am – unaccustomed – to thinking of it this way.” Laurent’s smile had a trace of shyness, “It is about me and you,” He whispered, “We deserve it.”

“We do.” Damen said. He was helplessly charmed, something clamoured in his chest, growing and yelling to let out. It must have shown in his face, as Laurent rolled his eyes.

“Well then, Damen, will you marry me?” 

“Yes,” Damen said, feeling a dopey grin settle over his face. He leaned over, unable to stop himself from kissing Laurent enthusiastically, one palm braced against Laurent's cheek. They lay on their sides facing each other, and Damen smiled so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt.

“I do intend on following this up with the real thing, but until then…” Laurent picked up Damen’s hand holding it up above them, and traced two fingers along his fourth finger, miming the action of slipping on a ring.

Damen couldn’t help saying, “Should have let me do this. You totally ruined a romantic proposal.” He raised himself so that he leaned over Laurent then. 

"Shut up and kiss me, Damen." Laurent said, but his beautiful face was lit with mirrored joy. Damen would forever remember Laurent looking like this underneath him, his cheeks pinked and his golden hair fanned out in the semi-darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finished! Thank you to everyone who followed this story. Thanks for all the beautiful comments and kudos. You guys are so sweet!! 
> 
> Btw, I have tumblr now, [here](https://kazarina-writings.tumblr.com/), which I just set up. Come and chat with me, I don’t know anyone irl who likes these books. If you tell me your tumblr, I will follow you.


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